


Transgression

by Adventurekid



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Crime, F/M, M/M, Martymachlia, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Smut, mix of anime and game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adventurekid/pseuds/Adventurekid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've done a horrible thing to you, my boy. And to you, too. I can't run from my sins any longer. This is my admission of guilt, my confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while now and I've finally got around to expressing it. This fanfic will contain elements from the game FireRed/LeafGreen and the anime. It's my first fanfic and I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
>  
> 
> ~Adventurekid

I tore my thumb from my mouth, taking a piece of nail and some flesh along with it. I’d gone through this many times mentally. I’d explored every option, every given situation. Every possible consequence. Even the ones I was sure I couldn’t live with. I’d weighed all the pros and cons. I was absolutely certain that this was the only way. So why did I feel so uneasy? I looked about my lab. My assistants were working diligently as usual, with the silence of the work atmosphere being broken periodically with some whispering here and a bit of coughing there. The gentle clinking of glass beakers harmonized with the workplace symphony and I found myself becoming surer of my decision. I stood up from my chair and beckoned to one of my interns.

“Sosuke”. The freckled-faced teenager looked up from his laptop, promptly slammed it shut and hastily made his way over to my desk, almost knocking over a female assistant in the process.

“Sosuke!”, she whined. “You’re too clumsy!” That was the tag line of my lab. Sosuke was chronically accident-prone and many a glass beaker was destroyed because of this. I chuckled inwardly then addressed him.

“I’m heading to the Pokemon Center so I’ll be a bit”, I informed him. He nodded.

“Would you like to use the Dodrio or the Pidgeot?” He asked reaching into his pocket to retrieve the pokeballs containing the pokemon. After deliberating for a bit, I decided on the Dodrio. The Pidgeot would be faster, but I’d had a rather heavy breakfast that morning; air sickness wasn’t in my to-do list today. I walked out the lab and tossed the pokeball into the air. A long legged bird materialized in the red light, its brown feathers messy and unkempt. Its three heads, each adorned with a long black feathered crest, and perched on long slender necks looked at me intently, waiting for its orders. Dodrios have always fascinated me since I first learned about them. Not only the fact that while two heads slept one would stay alert was intriguing; their expressions really impressed me. Each one was representative of the three basic emotions of humans: Anger, Sadness and Joy. Their offspring continued this physical trait without fail, flawlessly, the same heads would have the same expressions. Joy on the right, sadness on the left and anger in the middle. In all my years of research, I still hadn’t figured out this enigma or how to alter it for that matter. I patted the towering bird on its angry head as I mounted it and waved at my intern who was now standing in the entrance doorway of the lab. The dodrio took off at my command, inviting a gust of wind to my face and leaving behind a trail of dust in its wake.

A rapid but bumpy ride took me to my destination, Viridian City. My pokemon trotted up to the Pokemon Center with my guidance and halted in front of it. I dismounted and instructed that it stay put until I came back out to which it responded with shrill, guttural cry. The Pokemon Center’s doors opened with a soft whoosh welcoming me inside. I was grateful for the air conditioning; the outdoors in the Kanto region was a furnace around this time of the year. I wiped my forehead with the back of my sleeve and made my way to the counter. A pink haired woman stood behind it, her hair combed into two neat buns at the nape of her neck. Her eyes narrowed with her smile as she greeted me, and as I approached, I noticed she was wearing too much make up. My attention was automatically drawn to her lips which were a bold shade of red that would put any Krabby to shame.

“Good morning, Professor!”, she chirped. “Welcome to our Pokemon Center! Would you like me to heal your pokemon back to perfect health?” I placed my hands on the counter, and leaned forward into her a little. She made a sideways glance but didn’t retract, her wide eyes trained on mine.

“No,” I said firmly. Her false customer-friendly smile that was tattooed onto her face evaporated, a solemn expression replacing it. Her voice became monotone and her demeanor, businesslike.

“Understood, sir. Your appointment will be booked immediately. If successful, you will receive a confirmation email within the next hour.” I nodded politely.

“Thank you, my dear.” I turned and walked briskly out the door. I came upon the sight of the Dodrio fighting amongst its heads. Normally, I’d be highly amused at this, stopping for a few moments to appreciate the silliness of the whole scenario. But I had too much to think about in the next few days, too many preparations to make, too many things to consider. I scolded it, bopped each of its heads and mounted. With a sharp kick to its side, we took off in the direction of Pallet Town. _Yes_ , I thought. _This is the only way._

* * * * * * * * * *

Red awoke to warm sunlight filtering into his small room. He stared blankly at his blanket which bore a rectangle of light emanating from outside his window. Little specks of white dust danced in the rays of golden light; it was almost as though the light provided its very own platform for them to dance upon. He sighed contentedly, and buried himself into the soft confines of his bed. He was absolutely determined to sleep all day today. He would just relax. No running errands, no chores. He was going to be the best snorlax today. No, he was going to be the best slaking today.

He was going to be very late today.

He jumped out of bed, effectively wrapping the sheets between his legs and tripping over them. Undeterred, he stripped, flinging articles of clothing in multiple directions as he got into the shower. Five minutes later, he dried himself hurriedly and pulled on some clothes. His messy, brown hair, masterfully styled by a night of occasionally tossing in his sleep was successfully hidden (mostly) under his beloved red hat. His father had given it to him when he was two years old. Or so his mother told him. Red had very little memory of his father. He remembered that he had his shade of brown hair but that was about it. His mother’s features always darkened at any mention of him. Red once made the mistake of pressing his mother for more information on his elusive parent. Instead of his mother sighing exasperatedly and relenting, her habit when dealing with her sometimes extremely insistent son, she’d thrown the coffee mug she’d been holding onto the floor, yelled at Red to stop asking her about him and sent him to his room. Red had retreated in shock and as he did so, he’d heard his mother crying. That was the last time he’d ever enquired. He’d already chalked it up in his heart – His father wasn’t in his life, he would never be and if the mere mention of him upset his mother, then he wasn’t someone he worth knowing.

Red made his way downstairs where his mother was making breakfast. Her chestnut colored hair, mid-back length, was held in a neat but slack ponytail at the base of her neck. She turned and greeted him. One would often look at Red’s mother and find her quite attractive. She had dark blue eyes that were framed by long dark lashes which made her eyes seem almost half lidded. As a result, she had permanent bedroom eyes that put the sexiest pinup models to shame. Those beautiful eyes were crowned by her impeccable eyebrows; his mother had no need for plucking or waxing much to the mild envy of other women in the town. Though her lips were thin, they were shapely and parted neatly whenever she smiled, revealing two rows of white teeth. Her figure was nothing to sneeze at either. Numerous times when Red accompanied his mother to the store, men would be especially helpful and the hostility from surrounding females was almost palpable. Catcalls and whistles usually heralded his mother’s approach. He was too young to understand what they meant back then, (“What are they doing, Mom?” “Just being silly, dear. When you get older, don’t ever be like them, alright?”) but as he grew, so did his wisdom; he found it both flattering and annoying that his mother was street harassed on occasion.

Red said a rushed “Good morning” and grabbed up one of the sandwiches his mother just made. He stuffed it into his mouth and gulped down some orange juice straight from the box, promptly earning him a scolding about table manners. He hastily apologized, and rambled that he was late and had to go, slamming the front door in his exit. He walked briskly in the direction of Professor Oak’s lab reaching his destination in about twenty minutes. As he entered the lab, he looked around. Professor Oak’s lab assistants and interns barely paid him any mind; they were used to him hanging out around the lab in his spare time since Professor Oak’s grandson was also his friend. Acquaintance. Something. He really didn’t know how to describe his relationship with Green simply because Green was extremely fickle in his interactions towards him. Friendly on one day, hostile on the next and in not so rare instances, the two extremes made appearances within the same day. There was never an in between; Green was a walking paradox. If Red was really unfortunate, he’d encounter him when whittling Red’s self-esteem was high on that day’s agenda. Red was often amazed (and very irritated) at the lengths Green went to make him feel like shit; it was like it was Green’s hobby to consistently and constantly point out how superior he was to Red in every way. The sole reason Red put up with the jerk was the fact that, besides Green, there were no other people his age in the small town. Red made his way to the back of the lab to find said jerk standing next to a table with three pokeballs on it. Red began to wonder about the pokeballs when Green decided to get into his routine of being obnoxious.

“What? It’s only Red”. He made no effort to hide his disappointment and if one squinted, they could see he was even exaggerating it a little. “Gramps isn’t here”. Red could feel himself seething. He looked him square in the face.

“I noticed. Thanks”. Red deadpanned, spun on his heel and left. _Stupid Green_ , he thought bitterly. He’d walked away so swiftly from the lab that when he encountered the tall grass that marked the end of the town, he was startled. He briefly contemplated walking further into it in an effort to clear his head when a frantic male voice pierced through the silence of the air.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Red turned around to see Professor Oak bent over with his hands on his knees panting heavily. “Don’t go into the bushes, Red” he resumed his warning after catching his breath slightly. “It’s dangerous. Come with me.” He beckoned Red to follow him and Red obediently did so.

They met a very bored Green sitting on the edge of the table dangling his legs off the edge and swinging them to and fro. Professor Oak frowned and he immediately jumped down from his perch. Red stood next to Green and Professor Oak addressed them both.

“I have a favour to ask of you both,” he said. Red’s curiosity was piqued. Professor Oak was usually easy-going and it was very rare to have him use such a serious and professional tone. Green, however, seemed oblivious to his grandfather’s attitude. The professor turned and headed to a small table behind him. On it laid two red, rectangular devices, with a flashing blue light at the top left hand corner of it. He handed one to Red, paused a bit as if thinking and then reluctantly handed the other to Green. Green cocked an eyebrow at his grandfather’s peculiar behavior but said nothing. Red glued his eyes to the red device in his hand, scrutinizing it.

“These are called Pokedex. They are devices that store virtual information on every pokemon its holder encounters and captures. As you know, my profession is based solely on the study of pokemon and by extension, the interaction between humans and pokemon, so it’s vital for me to have information on various if not most species. It has always been a lifelong dream of mine to gather data on all existing pokemon. But I can’t accomplish that on my own now, I’m too old.” Professor Oak’s eyes shone a little as he spoke and his voice was an odd mixture of passion and despair. He fixed gaze on Red as he spoke. “That’s why I’m recruiting you two to help me with my goal.” Red shifted uncomfortably under professor Oak’s stare. Although Green was standing right next to him, Red felt as though professor Oak was entrusting the task to him. Professor Oak then walked over to the table containing the pokeballs and gestured to them with his hand.

“Now, within these pokeballs are pokemon you can use to help you with your journey. Make your choice carefully, Red. The pokemon you choose will be yours.” Red’s heart thumped with excitement. He’d never given thought about leaving the confines of his town; he’d never had the need. Anything he required was provided to him via delivery. He had no relatives abroad, at least none that he knew of. Curiosity about the outside world clouded his mind and the prospect of new opportunities sent a wave of eagerness over him. Green would no longer be his only friend. He’d be interacting and capturing new pokemon. He would finally get to see what was beyond the bushes that framed Pallet Town. Green’s annoyed voice snapped him out of his daydream.

“Hey Gramps! What about me?” Green complained, pivoting his head between the elderly man and his neighbor. Professor Oak chuckled.

“Yes, Green. You get to choose one too, obviously.” Red walked over to the table and touched the pokeball to the furthest left. He picked it up and examined it.

“Ahh. That’s a Charmander, very beautiful creatures. I had one back in the day when I was a hotshot trainer. It’s a fire type.” Red turned and looked at the professor whose face looked overwhelmed with nostalgia. He looked back at the pokeball.

“Well, Red? Will you take Charmander, the fire type?” Red nodded eagerly. “Then it’s settled. Congratulations on your new pokemon, Red!” Professor Oak gave him a friendly pat on the back. Green narrowed his eyes at Red and then turned his attention to the two remaining pokeballs on the table.

“I choose this one, then!” Green exclaimed. Professor Oak looked at his grandson and smiled.

“That’s a Squirtle. They are a very durable species, extremely tough. It’s a water type.” Green looked smug as he turned to look at Red.

“Mine looks tougher than yours,” he gloated. Red ignored him. Professor Oak cleared his throat.

“Alright, you two. Off you go. Make sure to maintain contact via emails and video calls.” Green nodded, looked at Red and then back to his grandfather.

“You can leave everything to me, Grandpa!” He boasted. As he walked past Red, he placed a hand on his shoulder and his features contorted into mock sympathy.

“I’m sorry to tell you this Red,” Green said in a fake apologetic tone, “but you just won’t be needed for this task.” Red stared blankly ahead of him, successfully summoning all of his willpower not to slug his neighbor in the face, and said nothing. Green trotted out the lab, presumably on his way to begin his quest. Professor Oak smiled at Red.

“You should get going too, Red.” He urged politely. Red smiled, thanked him and left the lab.

His farewell to his mother was not as difficult as he thought it would be. In fact, she was far more understanding than he anticipated, even encouraging and while he was suspicious, he was also very grateful. He had gone through many mental plans as to how he’d convince his mother to let him go and none were satisfactory. With a kiss on her cheek and promises to keep in touch, Red set off on his journey.


	2. Manhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green challenges Red and, naturally, Red accepts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing something of this nature and I'm really glad at the result. Hope you enjoy! *extreme blushing*

_That was three years ago._

Red swirled his drink with his finger and looked lazily out the window. The bar stunk of cigarettes and weed. He turned his attention back to his glass, and then downed its contents in a single gulp. The cold liquid burned as it made its way to his stomach and settled. He cleared his throat and coughed a little. He wasn’t sure what he was doing there. Actually, no. He did know why he was there. It was because he let Green get to him. Green had actually taunted him about a topic he was extremely sensitive about. So he’d come to the bar to try to force himself to forget his insecurity regarding the issue and prove Green wrong. He wasn’t even a drinker; he’d choked down the first two glasses and had to coerce his gag reflex not to betray him during the third. And while the alcohol made his mind a bit hazy and induced a warm pleasant feeling throughout his body, it did nothing to make him forget the matter at hand. In fact, if anything, it amplified his shame surrounding it. Red went over the conversation he’d had with Green earlier that week bitterly.

_Flashback_

“Dammit!” Green yelled in frustration as his Wartortle gave a strangled cry and lay on its back, knocked out. He gritted his teeth and returned his pokemon, regarding Red with suspicion. Red returned his oddish and looked at Green, expressionless. Green narrowed his eyes and closed the gap between himself and his neighbor.

“Since when have you ever been better than me at anything?” Red remained stone-faced at the remark but inside he was high-fiving himself. Green looked him over skeptically.

“Well, this was only a fluke anyways,” Green shrugged. “I’m not at my best today. Kind of tired really. Since I earned four badges already and all.” His cocky grin spread across his face. He draped his arm around Red’s shoulders and Red tensed a little. Green had never been this affectionate with him even on his best day. The contact felt strange but not unpleasant and Red found himself lowering his emotional walls a little. He always had to keep his guard up when dealing with Green; ever since he knew him, Green would say the most cruel things to him. As he grew older, Red began to suspect that Green wasn’t aware of the impact his harsh words had on others. Green would insult him in the worst way and then interact with him the next day as though nothing had happened; like a reset button of some sort had been pushed. The trait waned as they got older due to, Red assumed, maturity but Red remained wary. Green’s yo-yo attitude had confused him greatly at one point; he’d then decided to resolve the issue by ignoring Green when he was being a dick. Now the unbalanced scale of emotion called Green had his arm around his shoulders and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Let’s go to the Pokemart.” Green urged. “We’ll grab something to eat there.” Red agreed and the two headed to the Pokemart. After a few minutes of picking out food, they made their way to the counter. Green laid down three hamburgers and a large soda on the counter and began searching his back pockets for his money. Red found his movements as he fumbled for his wallet oddly fascinating. Green had rather long fingers and the motion of his hands as they perused his backside accentuated their length and gracefulness. He was interrupted from his slight awe when a soft female voice spoke up at the side of him.  
“Wow! All of that for you?” Red instinctively turned to the owner’s voice. The rather pretty brunette had her brown eyes locked on Green. She had a generous bust that threatened to win the fight against her tight white shirt and her dangerously short blue skirt flattered her long legs that were adorned with loose white leg warmers. Green gave her a not so subtle vertical scan.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Green grinned. “I need all the nutrition I can get!”

“Oh?” She placed her hands behind her back. “And why is that?” Red noticed that she’d leaned in a little closer to Green.

“Because I’m a Pokémon Trainer.” Green beamed and proudly opened his badge case to show her its contents. Red sidestepped around them, placed his items on the counter, paid for them and made his exit. He stood outside the Pokemart for about 5 minutes before Green emerged with the young lady. With flushed cheeks, she waved goodbye and headed on her way. Green returned the wave and nudged Red’s side with his elbow.

“Cute, eh?” he grinned and pulled out a piece of paper out of his pocket, waving it in Red’s face. “Check it out. I got her number. One of many, of course.” He smirked. Red forced a smile. He didn’t like where the conversation was heading and mentally crossed his fingers that Green would bring up something else to brag about.

“What about you?” _No such luck_. Red almost cringed at the question. Green didn’t seem to be teasing, and for that Red was grateful. He still pretended not to hear the question, though.

“Huh?” Red asked. The “Huh” tactic usually did work when it came to Green; he was an impatient sort that disliked repeating himself. The response “huh” also gave the impression of being spaced out, another one of Green’s pet peeves. A person who was spaced out while the great Green was talking wasn’t worth speaking to so at best he’d give an annoyed “Never mind” or shake his head with scorn and walk off, at worst.

“What about you? Do you get any girls?” _It wasn’t very effective_. Red felt his shoulders slump against his will. To Red’s chagrin, Green noticed. An uncomfortable silence made its debut and Red shifted uneasily. He instinctively braced himself for biting words, relentless teasing and mocking laughter. To his surprise, there was none. Red gave a cautious glance at Green and saw he was looking at him intently.

“You don’t, do you?” He concluded. Red remained silent for a bit then spoke.

“I’m concentrating on battling, so I don’t really concern myself with that sort of thing.” Red said somewhat defensively. Green continued to study him and Red avoided his gaze. He’d really wanted to steer clear of the topic because he knew he was different. Red had a general apathy towards women. Very rarely they would arouse interest. Of course, he knew an attractive female when he saw one but they just didn’t induce the wolf-whistling, uncontrollable drooling reaction that was characteristic for men his age. He acknowledged that he was utterly picky when it came to the opposite sex. So to avoid the annoying question “What is wrong with you, man?” he tended to circumvent the issue altogether.

“What is wrong with you, man?” Green enquired with a cock of his eyebrow. Red performed a mental facepalm and sighed inwardly. 

“Nothing, Green. It’s just not on my agenda right now.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun sometimes! All work and no play make dull Red even duller.” Red rolled his eyes. He really didn’t want to go through this but Green persisted.

“Is it because you can’t get a girl?” Red looked at him. Green was being totally serious. His concern both confused and embarrassed him. Green placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Red winced.

“I can hook you up, man. I know a lot of chicks.” _That’s it_. Humiliation and discomfort was one thing but being pitied was something Red would not tolerate under any circumstances. Before he could filter his words, he blurted out,

“I can hook up whenever I want!” and immediately regretted what he had uttered; it was the same as proposing a challenge to Green. Green’s concerned expression transformed into one of mild amusement and he huffed. Here it comes.

“Fine, then. You know my number. At the end of this week, you should no longer be a boy, but a man.” Here we go. Red made a feeble attempt to back out of the bet he was coerced into.

“What happens if I don’t want to go along with your stupid game? I’m kinda busy, you know. Filling out the Pokedex and all that.” Green turned serious.

“I will lose the shred of respect I have for you, Red. I didn’t think you were this pathetic. I thought that you would’ve been getting some action. Less than me, but still.” Green shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away, slightly flustered. “You’re a decent looking guy so this revelation…I’m surprised, is all.” Red regarded Green in disbelief. Green had respect for him? It was minuscule but still. When had Green ever had any respect for anyone other than his grandfather? His candid confession caused a bit of pride to bubble in his chest. Green didn’t see him as pathetic as Red thought that he did. This new knowledge made him feel kind of happy and he didn’t quite know why. Suddenly not rising up to Green’s challenge seemed unacceptable; he wanted Green’s approval. He feigned exasperation and sighed.

“Fine, whatever.” Red took his leave, heading for the nearest Inn. He kicked himself for once again getting sucked into one of Green’s whims.

*****

Three days since their meeting and Red could not push his uneasiness out of his mind. During the day, he fumbled to find his meticulously organized items on his person. Training spiked in difficulty, he would often mess up commands; sometimes even calling moves that his pokemon were incapable of. Red knew he was in trouble when his Charmander gave him a sideways, rather annoyed glance the moment he commanded it to use Bubble at a target. Pokemon battles were no better. Any strategic maneuvers he’d mentally rehearsed countless times fled his mind the moment he tossed the pokeball into the air. He’d lost $3000 in trainer battles and vowed that he would not participate anymore until he had sorted himself out. Not only was the confident jeering from his opponent debasing, his pokemon often suffered because of his temporary incompetence. The guilt of the harm he invited to them due to his lack of focus weighed heavily on his conscience and he cursed himself for being so weak. His frustration overwhelmed and confused him. Since when was a thumbs up from the obnoxious next door neighbor so imperative? Red would’ve have laughed if his emotions didn’t frazzle his conscious decisions and consistently rob him of sleep. Disturbingly, Red chose to disregard the epiphany that made its appearance while having breakfast at the Inn that morning. He could do one of two things: Ignore the bet and move on with his life (It wasn’t as though he’d given his word to take the “Rite of Manhood”, anyway) or lie about having a steamy romp in the sheets with a perky A-cupped redhead and end the whole thing right there (Green didn’t know what type of woman appealed to him, so the fib would be easy to pull off. Hell, **he** didn’t even know).

The first option would be seen as an obvious cop out. Even though Green and Red’s friendship had a rather strange dynamic, there was an unspoken agreement; they were rivals. Always competing, always trying to be better than or at the very least equal to the other. Anytime a challenge presented itself, they understood that they had some sort of duty to try to best the other at it. Simply ignoring his blatant dare was dishonorable and therefore, out of the question. The second option would be to lie which was arguably even worse. Green and Red basically had the same goal so they were bound to meet up again eventually. Red was a horrible liar and had an inclination to speak the truth. He often found himself butting heads with others because of his brutal honesty. Green knew him all his life and thus knew all of his awkward mannerisms when he attempted to be dishonest (“You could never be my partner in crime, Red. You’re hopeless!”). Also, lying about success in a conquest was not only pitiful but would bring ignominy upon his reputation, at least when it came to Green. His pride wouldn’t allow either of the two options and Red felt like kicking himself. He glanced at his wrist watch. 8:27 pm. He deliberated a bit and decided to go out. After taking a shower, he put on a pair of jeans, his sneakers and a burgundy shirt. Over the shirt, he wore a black jacket. He slapped some cologne on his neck, put on his hat and took a good look at himself in the mirror. With a slight blush, he realized that Green was right; he wasn’t a bad looking guy. After studying his attire a bit, he decided to omit the hat since it didn’t suit the style. With one last glimpse into the mirror and a deep breath he set off to make well on Green’s challenge.

*****

_Present day_

Red sighed and looked around the bar again. As expected, there weren’t any women that held his attention. There were some cute ones scattered here and there, but none that he felt like sleeping with. He swirled his fourth glass with his finger, concentrating on the ripples at the surface of his drink.

“That looks like fun. Mind if I join?” Red whipped his head to the questioner and came face to face with cleavage. She was leaning on the table, resting on both of her hands. Whether the action was intentional or not, it was certainly welcome. He trailed his gaze to the woman’s face. She was a ginger, her orange locks cascaded a little past her slightly freckled shoulders. Her turquoise eyes, embellished by her long lashes, twinkled with curiosity and a hint of mischief. Her lips were cotton candy pink, glossy and inviting. She wore a yellow off the shoulder, long sleeved crop tops that graced her flat, toned stomach. Her navel ring, glinted in the dim light, its jewel snugly embedded in her belly button. Her short jeans pants hugged her hips and Red noticed she had a tattoo of a Psyduck on her upper left thigh as she took a seat opposite to him. Red smiled as he recognized her face; Cerulean City gym leader Kasumi a.k.a Misty. She clasped her hands on the table.

“I’d think after you won one of my badges you’d look happier. I’m not the easiest gym leader, you know.” Red forced a chuckle. His stomach was doing flip-flops by the second; he didn’t know the first thing about flirting.

“I was just in lost in thought,” he said softly. Misty raised a copper eyebrow.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Nothing.” His forehead almost stung with the force of his mental facepalm. Misty gave him a skeptical look. _Great. Now she thinks I’m odd_. He was relieved when she gave a soft laugh.

“You’re rather private aren’t you?”

“A little.”

“Huh.” Misty suddenly raised her hand into the air and a waiter hurriedly made his way to their table. “I’d like a shot of Tequila, please.” Red decided it would be best if he stayed slightly buzzed; potvaliency would definitely come in handy. Misty looked pleased.

“So you’re a drinker?” She enquired, gulping the shot down. Red shrugged.

“I try.” Red thanked his Dutch courage for his smooth answer. She smiled at him.

After a couple of drinks, a familiar warm, heavy but pleasant feeling coursed through his body. Misty’s lips moved and it sounded like a string of incoherent sounds. _Shit. I overdid it_.

“What?” He asked, somewhat annoyed. She frowned.

“I said let’s go somewhere quiet.” He nodded and they both got up, Red leaving some money to cover the bill. On the way out, he hurriedly stepped in front of Misty and held the door open for her. His chivalry was rewarded with a strange glance and a chuckle but instead of feeling self-conscious, in his slightly inebriated state, he got annoyed. _So I see you’re one of those chicks that prefer guys who treat you like shit_. His harsh thoughts towards the redhead surprised him somewhat; being mean was a novel concept but he was too intoxicated to care. His eyes lowered to her backside and her swinging gait as she made her way to the street. She turned to him suddenly and he stopped in his tracks. Red could tell from her slightly knit eyebrows that she’d caught his lewd gaze. He smiled at her. She returned his smile and leaned in a little.

“So where are we going now?” She asked. Red shrugged playfully.

“I don’t know. I came outside because you wanted to be somewhere quiet.” She laughed and shoved him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him sharply, causing her to off balance and fall into his chest. With a swift motion, he placed his hand on the small of her back and with the other, he cupped her chin, tilted it upwards and planted his lips against hers. She squeaked a little in protest but didn’t pull away. Red’s heart thundered with pride and excitement. _Suck on that, Green!_ Her lips were warm, soft and very moist; Red had a little difficulty getting some traction for the impromptu kiss. Girls and their obsession with lip gloss. The slippery texture wasn’t off putting; it added to the feeling in fact and Red released her chin and trailed his hand above the other that had her lower back hostage. She draped her arms around his neck and sighed a little, pressing herself into him. The sensation of her soft breasts flattening against his rib-cage threatened to overwhelm and his hand roamed to her ass where he gave it gentle but firm squeeze. She pulled away suddenly and placed her hand over her month avoiding his gaze. _Nice job, idiot_. You ruined the mood. Before he could berate himself further, he noticed the pink tinge that was spreading across her face. _So Cerulean’s tough tomboy gym leader can actually feel self-conscious. Cute_. He pulled her close to him, leaned down and spoke softly into her ear.

“Let’s go somewhere even quieter.” Her face was buried in the crook of his neck but she answered in the affirmative; he felt her nod. After a ten minute walk in near silence and holding hands they reached the inn. He handed her the keys to his room and she gave him a puzzled look.

“I need to pick up something at the mart. I’ll be back.” She nodded. Although Red was new to the sleeping around scene, he knew of its consequences. He was never a fan of having his own kids. After a 5 minute walk, he made it to the Pokemart and started searching through the aisles frantically.

“Good evening. May I help you?” An elderly voice quivered politely behind him. He turned around. _Oh fuck_. An old woman smiled at him, waiting for his reply. _You can’t be serious_.

“I…um…I was just looking.” Her face twisted into a smile, wrinkles adorning her cheeks and the corners of her eyes; the laugh lines carved into her face were as deep as the embarrassment growing within Red’s chest.

“Seems as though you were looking for something specific,” the old lady pried. Red felt his face heat up. Granny dearest held her gaze and her eyes twinkled. Red swallowed.

“I was looking for Ramen noodles!” Red blurted out. Her smiled faded but senior citizen’s eyes still twinkled. She reached a hand out beside Red’s right shoulder. Red’s eyes widened when he saw the object in her hand. A cup of Ramen noodles.

“You mean this, sonny?” She looked at him intently, her smile returning. She placed it in his hands and tottered to the cashier counter. Behind the cashier counter. Smiling at him. Red swallowed, picked up two more packs of Ramen (shrimp flavored) and slowly made his way to the counter, careful not to make any eye contact. He placed his items on the counter and dug into his pockets for money. He heard the old woman’s voice in his right ear.

“Is there anything else you need?” She asked softly. “Any items behind me, perhaps?” Red’s pores rose. The woman was leaning over the counter, speaking into his ear. He involuntarily looked past her and saw what he was looking for. Condoms. He had to ask the aged weirdo for condoms. A thought hit him. She knew. Hence the reason for her behavior. _This wrinkly bitch_. Red absolutely hated being toyed with; he preferred straightforwardness.

“Which one would you like, sweetheart?” Red resisted the urge to curse. Before he could glare, she turned around, grabbed a few, laid them across the counter and pointed to one.

“This one has an assortment of fruit flavours like strawberry, banana, etc.” This isn’t happening. He took a step away from her and looked around. The few customers in the store were now looking in their direction. Grandma was now pointing at another packet.

“This one heats up. And this one tastes sweet.”

“Oh my gosh! Look at his face!” A hushed voice choked out followed by uncontrollable giggles. The customers now had their eyes locked on him, snickering in amusement. _This. Is. Not. Happening_. Sweet Grandma, however, was oblivious to the attention she was calling to herself and by extension Red; she seemed to be proud of her knowledge of contraceptives. She pointed to yet another pack.

“This one is extra durable for those rough nights! You look quite energetic so maybe-” Red slammed his money on the table, picked up a pack of condoms (he didn’t see which) and bolted out the door, leaving the old crone with her mouth agape in shock.

“Sonnny, wait! You forgot your change!” He heard her call after him.

“Keep it!” He yelled over his shoulder.

*****

Red took a deep breath and entered his room. Misty was lying on his be in a white lacy bra and a matching thong. He swallowed and surveyed her body. Subtle muscles embellished her back, her thighs and calves were toned and firm. His gaze stopped on her rear. She didn’t have a plump butt nor was it flat but it was round, well-shaped. A nice butt. Though Red was impressed with her body, he wasn’t surprised; it was well known that Misty held athleticism in high esteem. To see her jogging on mornings and doing open water swimming while training her pokemon was a common sight. As he continued to admire her ass, he noticed with beguilement that she had another tattoo, a Tentacruel, on her lower back. This chick really likes water types. Red chuckled. She turned over on her back and looked at him, her navel ring, wedged snugly in her flat stomach, glinted in the light as though it was inviting him.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing. You look nice.” _Real smooth, loser_. She smiled.

“Really? Come over here and tell me how nice I look.” He made his way over to the bed and kneeled on it. Misty got on her knees, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him in for a needy kiss. _Hmm. She’s aggressive_. Red pushed his tongue past her lips, and she complied, moaning as she did so, her tongue wrapping around his; she tasted of the tequila shots they’d had earlier, coupled with the faint sourness of lime. His hands travelled to her ass and gave it a good squeeze. She gasped, and planted her lips against his neck; her hands grasped the hem of his shirt and gave it an upward yank. Red obeyed the tug and raised his arms, allowing it to slide over his head. He reached and captured Misty’s lips again into another hot kiss, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. Try to unhook her bra. As he fumbled with the offensive article of clothing, he felt her laugh softly into his mouth then undid the bra herself.

“Thanks,” he mumbled against her lips. Another soft chuckle. His hands wasted no time in reaching in front to fondle her breasts. They were soft yet firm, a little less than a handful. He looked at them as he squeezed, observing how the warm flesh molded between his fingers. He cupped them and jiggled them a bit, earning a soft laugh. He pressed his lips against her right breast in a chaste kiss then parted his mouth sucking against the soft skin, resulting in a gasp, a whimper, a fistful of his brown hair being grabbed and gently yanked, a hiss. He ceased his suction and admired his mark on her; a blemish, in bright red relief, his symbol of ownership. He pushed her gently on her back; she relieved herself of her thong as he did so. _She doesn’t waste time_. He undid his pants, taking out the box of condoms and tearing it open with his teeth. While he opened the packet, Misty reached for the remnants of the box thrown haphazardly on the bed.

“Retardant?” She questioned. He looked at her and shrugged. He didn’t even know what that meant. Like hell if he cared; he’d just grabbed one of the boxes off the counter because the damn old crone had been humiliating him; it could’ve been Miltank flavoured and he’d still be nonchalant. Once it prevented children and urinating lava, anything was fine with him. Misty got on her hands and knees and pulled down his pants. He turned around and sat on the bed briefly, peeling his pants and underwear off then resumed his kneeling position. He almost fell backwards from pleasure when Misty took him into her mouth. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt; he’d delivered himself from pent up horniness many times before, it was only natural he’d touch himself. This was on a totally different level. The moisture and heat combination was almost too much to handle and he struggled to keep himself under control. He closed his eyes briefly and moaned then turned his attention back to Misty, her redhead bobbing back and forth along his shaft, making wet obscene noises as she worked. His head was swimming now and he struggled to maintain his bearings; Misty oblivious to his plight, kept slurping away. He took a hand and gently pushed her on her shoulder, her cue to stop. She released him, looked up and smiled mischievously. _This woman will be the death of me_. She took the condom from his hand (he hadn’t realized he was still holding it), and placed it over her mouth. Holding his erection, she put her mouth onto his weeping tip, bringing her lips towards his base, the condom smoothly unfurling. With a soft pop, she removed her mouth, rolling the rest of the condom down. She then lay down and spread her legs. Red thanked Arceus for alcohol; by now he would’ve been freaking out. 

Red crawled to her, pulled her to him by her thighs and inserted himself. Another wave of pleasure overcame him. He propped himself on his hands, his torso hovering over Misty. She blushed a little and moved her hips, grasping his forearms. He’d been worried for nothing; the act came natural to him, and soon his hesitant thrusting quickened in tandem with the volume of her moans. The sharp increase in arousal made him get a little rough with her; his hands dug into her thighs as he jammed his hips into her pelvis, the sound of sweat soaked skin slapping together filled the air. She started gasping, then screaming. Red slowed down a bit, and his heart rate escalated in panic. He looked at her; her eyes, the color of the city’s namesake from which she hailed, were shut tight. Her face glistened in the dim light of the room and her red hair framed it, matted against her forehead and spilled onto the pillow like a fiery halo. Panting heavily, her mouth formed words, but she was so out of breath they were soundless. Red leaned into her a bit.

“What?” He asked. She responded by bucking her hips. _Oh. She was enjoying it_. Red re-assumed his position and gleefully hammered away at the beauty underneath him, her shrill cries punctuating each of his enthusiastic pelvic thrusts. He winced and mouthed “Ow” when she buried her nails into his back, scraping its surface and possibly tearing away some of his skin. With a loud shout, Misty’s back arched and her body tensed, her legs clamping shut around Red, effectively pinning him between them. Her eventual relaxation signaled the end of her climax; Red followed soon after with a strangled grunt and a few lazy jerks of his hips. He rolled to the side, out of breath. Misty giggled, gave him a chaste peck on the lips and snuggled into his side, draping her arm over his midsection. Red felt her breathing slow to an even pace; she’d fallen asleep. He fixed his eyes to the ceiling and smiled, feeling his ego boost. He soon came to the realization that his proposed lie had come true; he’d had a hot romp with a perky A-cupped redhead. Red chuckled to himself and drifted off to sleep.

*****

Red opened his eyes slowly and regarded the ceiling, gradually becoming aware of his surroundings. Although he was an early riser (usually), it took him a couple minutes to fully become awake. He soon discovered that his lady for the night had disappeared, leaving the lingering scent of perfume on the sheets. He felt extremely pleased with himself. Red got up, showered and dressed. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and, to him, it seemed as though he’d grown a few centimeters taller.

 


	3. Erase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red stumbles upon something he really shouldn't have.

The next few days were spent picking fights and abusing his Vs Seeker. Red found the irony hilarious; before he’d loathed the unspoken code of conduct between pokemon trainers: locking eyes with another trainer meant being subjected to a pokemon battle (granted, he was weaker and inexperienced back then). He’d purposefully walk with his head down or avoid going into areas where trainers were frequently found, opting to fight wild pokemon in their territory instead. Now he realized that trainers would avoid his gaze or ignore him altogether. And with good reason; the Pokemon Center was nowhere nearby. It was much easier to avoid battling in the first place. Still, trainers registered under the Vs Seeker were obligated by law to participate in battles as long as they were fit to do so. Also, a “fine” (a minimum of $300.00) would have to be given to the winner of the battle. So when Red locked eyes with a raven haired girl, he could hardly stifle his laughter at her loud, exasperated sigh and rather impressive eye roll. Clad in a white fitted shirt with a green bow around the collar, a green and black plaid skirt reaching her mid thighs, black stockings and ballet flats, she looked like one of the stuck up snobs he often saw hanging out around town, the ones that only associated with their own “kind”. Red recognized the insignia on her shirt pocket; Articuno Private. It was one of those prestigious schools you only heard of, never saw. She pulled her shoulder length black hair into a ponytail, folded her arms and tilted her chin up at Red indignantly, narrowing her blue eyes at him. Red looked at her, slightly amused but expectant.

“You know, I’m not really in the position to have a battle. I’m not in the mood either”. Red’s mirth dissipated and he scowled internally. This chick had an attitude. Red pulled out a Pokeball, pushed its button and felt the device expand in his hand.

“That’s not my concern. This is what comes with registration into the VS. Seeker.” He looked at said device. It flashed its blue light excitedly as if to corroborate his point. “It says you’re quite fit to battle.” She huffed as she planted one hand on her hip and flung the other up and outwards, letting it drop to her thigh with an audible slap.

“I just came out here to relax! I have exams and…” Red’s thrown pokeball interrupted her irritated response and his charmander materialized from a large ball of red light, roaring and raring for a fight. Upon its freedom from the confines of its spherical cage, it tilted its head upwards and sent a jet of fire into the sky, the heat emanating from its showy entrance almost unbearable. Although Red was extremely impressed and proud at his starter’s power and eagerness to battle, he was relieved when the display of bravado came to an end. Red noted that his charmander was a bit on the aggressive side; it was often hard at the beginning to stop it from attacking after the battle had ceased due to either his command or the challenging pokemon fainting. At first, this worried him to the point of considering trading it to another trainer, but then he began to channel its aggression into more precise attacks and combination techniques. As a result, his charmander had an array of dexterous manoeuvres that gained both it and its trainer admiration and praise. The wight also began to mellow out and Red theorized that this was the result of the amount of energy expended to execute its personalized battle moves (he was adamant about daily training for the overly energetic creature). He had every right to be utterly grateful for this transformation. A pokemon’s death at the hands of another trainer was rewarded a hefty compensation fine plus the offending trainer’s license being revoked for a minimum of four years, more if the death was found to be intentional. In addition, the pokemon of the offending trainer would be confiscated, doomed to be the property of the government for unknown purposes henceforth.

The young lady chewed her bottom lip, clearly annoyed. Red was becoming agitated himself. This was the procedure to all VS. Seeker holders. If you didn’t want to battle others mandatorily, head to the nearest Pokemon Center and unregister. It was that simple. While Red was irritated, he knew he couldn’t force her into battling. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He noticed that her expression softened somewhat as she regarded him. Red frowned.

“What?” he almost snapped but he managed to reign himself. His charmander mimicked his impatience making restless, meaningless movements a little distance away at his feet. This spoilt brat was getting on his nerves. Not only would he have to look for another trainer to spar with in order to gain experience, but the girl exhibited a demeanour that was very similar to his…“friend”.  She walked towards him tentatively, neatly sidestepping away from Red’s very annoyed charmander and picking up her pace when she passed the disgruntled beast. Its head trailed her motions, never ceasing to glare at the person denying it a well anticipated fight. She then faced its trainer who mirrored its expression, and leaned forward a bit causing Red to recoil a little.

“You know, I was serious about me not wanting to battle anyone today because of exam stress.” Her voice was less hostile now.

“The rules state-” Red began angrily.

“I know what the rules say,” she interjected smoothly. “But are you gonna go by the book all the time?” She undid her ponytail and tossed her dark hair back, giving Red a smug look as she did so. She folded her arms and scrutinized him haughtily, sizing him up. “That’s so boring.” She taunted. Red felt his solar plexus bubble heat at the base of his lungs. _This. Bitch_. He inhaled sharply.

“Look if you don’t wan-”

“I know you’re serious about gaining experience.” She interrupted his dismissal of her and continued. “You’ve been on this stretch four times this morning already.” This statement diffused his annoyance and embarrassment blossomed in its stead. He blushed. He hadn’t noticed some people were paying attention to him. He must have looked like a raving madman, stalking up and down the same road for most of the morning. He was jolted out of his self-conscious mental chatter when she startled him slightly by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll tell you what.” She said softly as she invaded his personal space further. “You forget this whole owing you a battle because of the VS. Seeker thing and I’ll show you a way to gain experience. It’s even more fun and rewarding than boring old battling.” Red raised an eyebrow. He’d been contemplating leaving her there in favour of spending his time searching for someone else to challenge but he was intrigued. Another way to train a pokemon? What other way was there? Did she mean grooming it for a contest? That was unlikely. She was clearly referring to battling. It sounded impossible. His curiosity was inflamed. He threw his pokeball at his charmander. The beast let out a bark of surprise as the device opened and it was swathed in red light, disappearing within the red and white device’s bounds. He turned to her.

“Alright then, fine. How do you gain experience without battling?” He enquired. He tried to give an air of nonchalance but his eagerness seeped through the act. She looked surprised at first then started giggling. Red tilted his head slightly to the side and knit his eyebrows together, confused.

“You…don’t really go out much…do you?” she teased. He didn’t understand what she meant. She took him by the hand and led him into a nearby forested area, guiding him in its depths until the sunlight dimmed, its rays peeking through the leaf canopy of tall trees; the silence was interrupted sporadically by the soft, curt buzzes of Ladyba. She then looked at Red, stretching and cracking her fingers.

“Alright.” She announced, as she approached him. “Let’s begin.”

*********

Red learned two things that he was completely unaware of. The first?

He was, apparently, more attractive than he gave himself credit for.

He dug his nails into the rough bark of the tree he was pressed against, hissing slightly from the pain as he felt his nails bend backwards. His eyes rolled back behind fluttering eyelashes and he bit his lip to prevent him from moaning too loud. His face was contorted with effort as he looked down at head full of onyx hair bobbing back and forth at his crotch furiously. His hand found its way to it, digits caressing the dark locks and becoming entangled within them. With a lusty hum, the head’s owner took more of him into her mouth, her soft moist lips moving to and fro along his shaft, her tongue guiding his tip further into the moist cavern. His body went up on his toes when he felt the opening of her gullet clamp gently onto the tip of his shaft and he gripped the already abused tree bark beneath his fingers even harder to keep from making sounds that would embarrass him, his teeth embedded into the flesh of his lower lip, his face scrunched up with the sweet, agonising struggle of keeping silent ( _Where the fuck is her gag reflex?! Holy shit!_ ). She released him with a slightly choked gasp, a thin long string of saliva connecting her mouth with his throbbing head. He looked down at her to see her smiling deviously up at him, continuing to stimulate him with her hand. He was panting.

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked seductively. Red nodded hastily.

“Yes, very much, uh…um” Red stammered. _Wait a minute. What’s this chick’s name?_ She laughed.

“Giselle. My name’s Giselle.” She supplied as if reading his mind. Red let out a terse bray of laughter that betrayed his amusement and nervousness at the whole scenario.

“Red’s mine.” He reciprocated her self-introduction. She slowed down her handjob gradually and then stopped altogether, looking to her left thoughtfully.

“Red, huh.” She mused quietly. Red was about to enquire about the significance of his name to her when she resumed her lewd ministrations. She leered up at him and smirked.

“Nice to meet you, Red!” She chirped. He moaned loudly when the warm, moist recesses of her mouth found its way back over his love muscle. His fingers re-fused with their imprints on the tree bark, eyes baring their sclerae and teeth re-joining into their mold on his bottom lip left prior during the first bout of the tumultuous, blissful session. He gripped harder when he felt his tip push past the soft palate of her mouth and gave a sharp gasp of pleasure when it tensed and relaxed around his head. His mouth remained open as he looked down at her and saw to his amazement that she’d actually managed to swallow all of him. He felt himself twitch when she gently cupped his balls and let out a moan when she stretched out her tongue, touching its tip them. She released then swallowed him again, her movements becoming more rapid as she caressed his thighs, squeezing them at intervals. Her extraction from his member was announced with a soft ‘pop’; when Red opened his eyes (he hadn’t noticed when he’d closed them) and looked down at her, she was sitting in casual seiza, studying him with a mischievous smile.

Women were not as prudish as they were made out to be. That was the second thing Red learned.

She stood up and peeled her underwear to her ankles, stepping out of them gracefully. Eye contact was made and Red understood.

***************

He was beaming down at his pokedex, positively pleased at the progress he’d made. Within the week, his team had levelled up and learned new moves. The battles were a lot shorter; only one team member was required to pulverize his opponents’ six. By the time Red reached Vermillion City, his pokemon had learned new moves and had evolved. After stocking up on potions and the like, Red walked leisurely around the City, taking in his surroundings. Though the it was rather small, it’s buildings and houses were impressive; each one boasted modernity and environmental consciousness. Red observed that on every construction, a solar panel was perched on its roof and recycle bins punctuated the end of every driveway. The streets were spotless; so much so that Red briefly speculated that they were being scrubbed with soap and water daily. A soft but continuous whirring sound answered his pondering. Red turned to see a minivan, equipped with two spinning circular brushes at its front, cruising leisurely down road. A street sweeper. Red grinned at it, eliciting some curious stares from some people passing by. He couldn’t help it. It was the first time he’d seen such a thing. He walked around, carefully drinking in the vicinity. At least he tried to. If he was being honest with himself, he was actually trying to forget what he’d seen in Cerulean City. Flashes of the unpleasant memory plagued his waking hours and it took nearly all of his mental strength to will them away. His stay at Cerulean was bittersweet; he’d gotten laid but he also saw something he’d never forget.

He desperately wanted to.

*************

To say Cerulean city was beautiful would be an understatement. Wide, proud sidewalks flanked the smooth dirt roads and numerous people, all perched atop expensive looking bikes traversed to and fro. The air was crisp and clean; the numerous trees and foliage tastefully scattered throughout probably had something to do with that. As he’d walked through the streets, he’d noticed that there were a lot of flower shops and confectionery stores sprinkled strategically around the area; each one was within range of the other. He’d found this to be curious but didn’t pay any it any mind as he continued placidly past a wooden bridge that arched above a sparkling river. Strolling idly, he’d reached a dead end. A white picket fence framed the edge of the city and beyond it a large expanse of water stretched further than his eyes could see, glittering seductively in the warm sunlight. Red took in the scenery for a few minutes before deciding to leave. As he made his way back to the innermost part of the city, he heard a soft thump. His neck swivelled to the direction of the sound. A small house, named “Sea Cottage” sat to his right. He noted that its door was slightly ajar and was suddenly agog at the prospect of discovering the source of the noise. While his hand was hovering over the doorknob, he felt like he was being stared at and whirled around. Two couples were boring holes into him, staring at him as though he was a shiny of a superlatively rare pokemon. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” The audacity of the question would’ve floored him if his burning curiosity hadn’t been so blinding; he was the one entering someone’s house without permission after all. His mother had often lamented that he could be obnoxiously bold. The couple to his furthest right huddled closer to each other. The woman looked up at her lover, and he, with a nervous glance at her, addressed Red.

“Are you here with someone?” he enquired politely. Red shook his head. The man smiled at him, his lady matching his expression. “It would be ideal if you came here with someone. This is a rather popular dating spot. Cerulean City Gym Leader Misty has high hopes for this place.” Through his periphery, he could see the couple standing slightly off to his left observing him with something akin to pity. The amount of flower shops and confectionary stores made perfect sense to him now; this city was apparently one of romance.

“Misty really does regard this place as the perfect dating spot”. The man’s girlfriend spoke. “You don’t experience this spot to the fullest unless you’re here with someone special.” At these words, the couple locked eyes with each other and the man pulled her closer, brushing her blond hair away from her face as he did so. They blushed. Red fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Misty’s a romantic? Huh. Didn’t seem so when I was fuc-_

“I won’t be here long”, Red assured them curtly and entered the house not really caring whether they’d heard his response or not. The place was…a mess to put it simply. The floor could hardly be seen; books of varying thickness were littered across it. A computer filmed with dust beeped serenely from its place on a nearby table; a pair of green pants and a lab coat thrown carelessly over the back a chair that stood in front of the dimly lit screen kept its company. What really stood out were the two towers stationed in the middle of the room. They were so tall they looked as though they were jammed against the ceiling. As Red inspected it further, he saw that they were connected to each other via a few large, thick wires. The towers were wide and tall enough for a person to stand in and a glass door enclosed each of the cylindrical contraptions. Red began to wonder about its purpose when he heard a thump and a groan coming from the recesses of the house. A door was situated further into the back of the room. For a moment, he froze, contemplating on whether he should investigate or not. His inquisitiveness was quicker on the ball, moving his feet toward the door. Another groan, a gasp. He was trespassing. He wasn’t minding his own business. Hell, he didn’t even know whose house he was in. But as these facts screamed at him to rethink his actions, his hand closed around the doorknob. There was a slapping noise and a hiss. A muffled screech. Red paused a little then opened the door.

A middle aged man with dirty blond hair stood in the middle of the rather small room, his hair messy and clothes dishevelled. There were bloodstains on his lab coat and fresh drops of blood dappled the white tiled floor. His face shone with sweat, crimson in his effort to tame the “woman” he was fighting with. The man had her (it?) on her hands and knees, yanking her head back by her long purple and white hair. He’d managed to hold one hand behind her back causing her arch backwards towards him. She squealed and flailed her free arm in front of her in a futile attempt to get away. Red’s brain struggled to identify exactly what the “woman” was. Her body was covered in deep purple fur, glossy and free of tangles as though it was well groomed. She had a furry underside; her breasts, neck and stomach were covered with white fur that continued its pattern past her crotch, adorning her inner thighs and the inside of her lower legs, stopping abruptly at her ankles. Her feet were unusually large, fanned out at bulbous toes (a total of three on either foot), each equipped with its own long, sharp, discoloured nail. A purple tail extended from her coccyx, its white end curled into a neat spiral. Her face was covered in a thin layer of white fur and a pair of whiskers grew out of the right side of it, near the corner of her mouth. In her efforts for freedom, she twisted her head to face Red, her eyes glowed yellow as the light reflected on them and snarled, revealing very long, yellowed, sharp teeth _Oh God she’s looking at me! It’s looking at me! What is that thing?! Oh God, Oh-_

“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” The man hollered at him. Red acknowledged that he was being yelled at but he couldn’t tear his eyes from the wight that hissed threateningly at him.

“I…I…” Red stuttered. Grabbing a fistful of amethyst hair and tugging it roughly, the man stretched across the room and banged the door shut. There were the sounds of scuffling, a glass breaking, loud screeching, an even louder thump. Then silence.  Red backed away from the door slowly, tripping over one of the many wires that took residence on the floor and fell unceremoniously on his backside. He hastily got up to prepare to make a beeline for the exit when the door of the room which contents had scared him shitless flew open and the man emerged, slamming it shut behind him. He crossed the room in long angry strides, grabbed Red roughly by the collar with both hands and brought their faces so close together, their noses almost touched. His eyes were bloodshot, and his scent was the potent fusion of stale alcohol and sweat. Red crinkled his nose involuntarily and squirmed when the man spoke.

“How much did you see?” He interrogated. Red stared at him with wide eyes.

“Enough.” Was his trembled response. The man loosened his grip and regarded Red warily as Red straightened his T-Shirt. They stared at each other for a few seconds, the thick silence unbearably awkward. The man glared weakly at him.

“There’s something called knocking, kid. Maybe you should try it more often.” Red reckoned that his face resembled his namesake at this moment. He really was in the wrong. He bit his lip. The man placed one of his hands on his hip and ran the other through his hair. He let out a sigh and dragged his hand from his hair over his forehead and placed it over his mouth. He looked utterly frustrated, nervous even.

“You know what you did is called breaking and entering, right?” He posed the question calmly, but his tone was clearly scolding.

“Your front door was unlocked”, Red defended.

“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”

“Sorry.” With arms akimbo, the man stared at the ground for a little while and looked up at Red. He walked over to his computer and picked up the lab coat that was hanging haphazardly off the back of the chair. He quickly scanned its pockets and pulled out a wallet. He then opened a draw in the computer desk and pulled out an envelope. Striding over to Red with both items in his hand, he looked at Red, paused a little, then spoke.

“What’s your name, kid?” He asked softly.

“Red”, Red answered hesitantly. The man nodded.

“Red, huh? That’s a nice name.” Red remained silent. He had no idea what to expect from a man who’d gone from volatile to gentle in the span of about two minutes but he was prepping for the worst. It was axiomatic that Red had stumbled across something he was not supposed to see, let alone know about. The man suddenly flipped open his wallet, causing Red to flinch a little, taking out a few hundred dollar bills. He paused, thought a bit, then took out more money, putting the wallet in his pocket. He then held up the envelope and waved it in Red’s face. Red watched in rapt attention.

“This is a ticket to the S.S. Anne. As a scientist, researcher, I get these little perks now and then.” The S.S. Anne was the best known cruise ship in the world. The founder of Silph Co’s great grandfather designed it and its creation was a great part of Vermillion City’s history. Only people with enormous political power and some of the social elite had access to its interior. Red took the envelope and scrutinized it.  The Silph family’s crest sat proudly in the centre of the envelope’s seal. He ogled the piece of paper in his hand; it wasn’t fake. A heavy hand plopped down on his right shoulder and he looked up at the worn out scientist/researcher in front of him. The man gently pressed the money to Red’s chest, looked him in the eyes and nodded. Red took the money hesitantly.

“What day is it today, kid?” He enquired.

“March 8th, 200V” Red replied. The researcher nodded and looked away a bit, mumbling something about things working out. He put his attention back on Red.

“Alright. Today’s Tuesday, then. Thursday at 6pm, the S.S. Anne will be having a little party and cruise. You can go in my place. I’m not really one for fancy dos so…uh…yeah.” He chuckled uncomfortably. Red continued to stare at him, his face a mixture of fear and suspicion. The man squeezed both of Red’s shoulders suddenly, bringing them face to face once more and Red almost forgot his apprehension due to his host’s horrible body odor.

“You. Didn’t. See. Anything. Understand?” His voice was low but there was venom oozing from his threat and every word seeping through his clenched teeth felt as though it was chipping away at Red’s lifespan.

“I understand.” Red’s voice quivered. With a sharp nod of his head and two gentle slaps on each of his shoulders, the man released him.

“Good. Name’s Bill, by the way.” He said with a smile. His face then immediately became menacing. “Now get the fuck out of my house.” Red stuffed his bribes into his pockets as he heeded Bill’s command, the faint sound of wailing following him from the back of his abode. He closed the entrance and ran-walked away from the house, evoking some curious stares from some lovestruck couples as he hurried away.

**************

 _What the fuck did I see? What the hell was that thing?_ Red questioned himself as he strolled down the clean streets of Vermillion City. Although he was grateful for the once in a lifetime opportunity to ride in a luxury cruise ship and extra funds to accommodate travelling and other expenses, Red felt that it would never be enough for the mental scarring that took place and he kicked himself for its self-infliction.

His fretful musing came to an abrupt halt when his right shoulder collided into something solid and spun him around a full 180 degrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that in order to keep my readers in suspense (hopefully), Archive warnings and additional tags will be added in relation to the chapter they apply to. So when I prod to pay attention to the tags and warnings, please do. I hate the thought of my fanfic causing distress to my readers by triggering unpleasant memories, feelings, etc. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. Depth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red and Green catch up for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is lengthy and dialogue heavy so just a heads up. I felt like this was very important to the story. There's an unpleasant flashback so if anyone of my readers has any issues with that, you can skip the paragraphs after Red spaces out (from " then there was silence". It ends at "Green's babbling...").

He stumbled backwards, heels digging into the pavement, trying to find his balance. He trained his eyes ahead, struggling to see what or who had knocked into him. The impact disgruntled him even further; he could feel annoyance prickling at the back of his skull. His eyebrows joined together as he looked ahead, waiting to see whether it was reasonable to get angry at whoever had knocked into him or angry at himself for colliding into whatever had his shoulder pulsing with a dull ache. The tips of his eyebrows sat even further down on his nose bridge when he saw who was responsible, glaring at him and straightening his (no doubt, very expensive) jacket. While Red was able to smooth out eyebrows to assume a stone faced, bored look, he couldn't suppress the low growl that escaped his throat.

_I REALLY don’t need this right no_ _w._

“Watch where you’re going idi-Red?!” Green’s initial hostility melted when he realized who he’d crashed into. Red forced a laugh; it sounded so foreign to him, like a feeble whimper much to his dismay. He reminded himself to smile, forcefully pulling his lips to curl against his cheeks, phoniness twitching at its corners. _Of all people_. Green’s hand frantically pulled at the dark brown spikes that were his hair as he advanced, making sure it maintained the wild style his patience and hair gel meticulously crafted. _Why are you even bothering? You’ve had that hairstyle forever. It’ll probably be that way even if you don’t want it to_ _._ Red snickered despite his foul mood. Green stopped fussing with his hair and looked at him, puzzled.

“What’s so funny?” His eyes burned into Red’s, his frown quizzical.

“Nothing.” Red said quickly,  stifling his amusement and reassuming his stoic expression. Green regarded him for a few moments, searching his face for...what exactly was Green searching for? To see if he was telling the truth? To try and figure out his inside joke? Red was getting annoyed by the second. Green's eyes narrowed as he gave a sly grin.

 “It’s been a week, Red,” He said in a sing song voice placing his hands gently on Red's shoulders as he faced him.  Red's stomach flopped violently, twisting into a few dozen knots, his fingertips losing their warmth rapidly. His couldn't be described as beating anymore; rather it had taken out a jump rope and was doing a professional boxer-level routine, vibrating against his ribcage and making him search Green's features to see if they betrayed any knowledge of his personal dilemma. He got even angrier. And a little alarmed. And a little ashamed.

And a tad scared.

He didn't even have this reaction when he'd slept with Misty and that was his first time thrusting his dick into anything other than a sock or his hand. In fact, it'd been his first time interacting with a woman his age with lewd intentions dancing in his mind (he'd been drunk at the time but that didnt matter; it was still his first time).Red cursed himself for his reaction, his uneasiness when in close proximity to Green. As far as he was concerned, Green was just his stupid, obnoxious, stuck-up neighbour. Hell, if he was being honest, he didn’t even like him.

 So why did he make Red so...nervous?

“…Yeah.” Red responded quietly, gazing at him expressionless. Green retracted his hands- _Thank Arceus_ \- and stuffed them into his pockets, taking a few steps back.

“You didn’t call me.” Green’s eyes shifted away from Red’s as he as he spoke. “You remembered our wager, didn’t you?” He looked at him suddenly, sunlight setting his emerald pools ablaze. Red noticed the flecks of brown scattered within the green irises, how they almost seemed to glow. His heart resumed its jump roping.

"Hmm?" He prodded when Red didn't respond. Red teeth grinded into themselves they struggled to find an inkling, an iota of patience to deal with this...this...

_Asshole. And I actually took on this Asswipe with his stupid bet._

“Even though, you didn’t officially agree to our bet-" _Exactly! That's why you shouldn't be expecting anything you entitled fuck!_ "-you didn’t flat out refuse, either. So I was expecting a call.” Green shrugged. “Or at least a text.” Red felt slightly less aggravated as he looked at Green. His grin was gone, replaced by a small smile that barely made his lips curve upwards. It was interesting; Red had only ever seen him haughty or angry. On further inspection it seemed as though...

_Is he...pouting?_

Red wondered what he could be miffed about. Was it the fact that he didn’t contact him? He quickly dismissed the notion. Green was rich, handsome and popular. He wouldn’t care about ONE person not contacting him when he had many others vying for his attention. Didn’t he once brag that he had two phones because of the amount of calls and messages he got?

“I was kinda busy," Red said dismissively. "I have pokemon to train, you know.” Green's eyes snapped back up to his face  his expression the marriage of annoyance and amusement. _How is that even possible?_

“Didn't I already told you that all work and no play make dull Red-“ Green's eyes narrowed as he leaned in and Red felt irritation dig its nails into his skin, felt discomfort crawl into his stomach, cuddling against its walls. Didn’t he know anything about personal space? Green pulled back, nodding in approval, a pleased smile on his face.

“What?” Red (almost) snapped, not really interested in the answer. Green was by his side in an instant, an arm draping around his shoulders. Red flinched.

“So I see Red’s not as dull as I thought!” Green punched him playfully in his side. Red shoved him away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Red struggled to keep his voice even. He wasn’t in any mood for teasing. He was already wrestling with his thoughts. He didn't need Green's bullcrap. He didn't have the equanamity. Not after what he’d witnessed. What he'd seen.

What he wasn't supposed to even have knowledge about.

What he wanted to forget.

Green stumbled backwards a bit, still grinning.

“Well you’re clearly a man.” Green chirped, baring his neck and tapping it. When Red still looked puzzled (and a bit pissed off), Green rolled his eyes and sighed. He took off his backpack and dug into one of the pockets, revealing a small mirror ( _What is he? A woman?)._ He then held it angled to Red’s neck. Red’s eyes widened a little when he saw what Green was teasing him about. A blemish sat proudly on the left side of his neck between his Adam’s apple and collarbone, a pleasant and somewhat embarrassing reminder of his…extra-curricular activities. His irritation dissipated and tinges of fondness, pride and slight shame pulsed in his chest. Red blushed and frowned, touching the mark. His first Hickey.

“So how was it? Was she hot? B-cup? D-cup?" Green interrogated eagerly as he cupped his hands to his chest and moved them up and down, bouncing his imaginary boobs. He looked downright ecstatic. "Give me details!" He urged. Red slapped his hands down playfully as his thoughts floated back to the night he’d left his boyhood behind. He remembered Misty’s red hair, fragrant and soft as it had tickled his shoulders when she’d nuzzled into his side asleep. The writhing of her body when he’d jammed his hips into hers replayed seductively. He recalled how her modest breasts had jiggled under his touch. He thought about her eyes; that devious look she’d given as she lowered her mouth on him. He felt himself heat up when he relived the warmth moisture of her tongue as she-

Red ceased slapping Green's hands in lieu of clearing his throat and looking away, causing the latter to point his index fingers at him, thumbs standing at attention while he cheered a very pleased and rather loud "Ayyyyeeee!", green eyes tightened into slits and a lecherous grin plastered on his face. He then burst into peals of raucous laughter.

“So it was THAT good, huh?!” he guffawed. _Yes, it was THAT good._ Red silently agreed and for once he appreciated Green’s pestering; it had chased away his unsavoury memories, even if only for a little while. Green settled down after a few moments.

“Well you’re clearly ashamed, so I’ll let you off the hook. Just know that I”, Green planted his palm against his chest with a soft thump as his other roosted on Red’s shoulder, “am proud of you.”

Green was proud of...him?

Red felt the heat of Green's hand seeping through the fabric of his T Shirt and for once, ONCE, his touch soothed his botheration, his disquiet, instead of inflaming it. Red would even go as far to describe it as pleasant. For some odd reason, even though his neighbour was almost intolerable most of the time, even though on most days he felt like breaking his nose and dragging him and his designer clothes in mud, in filth, so he could completely set him off then ignore him for eternity and a few years more, Green's admission of his pride in him caused flowers of camaraderie and affection to bloom within the steel doors that were wrapped around his heart, the ones he'd erected over the years to prevent himself from being hurt by Green's fickle temperament, the ones that were slowly eroding, disintegrating as petals of nascent hope for his friendship fell, causing his nerves to tingle and tickling his tummy.

Red decided that Green's declaration couldn't be a bad thing.

 

************

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes into his reunion with Green and he was already regretting bumping into him. Green coddled his ego the entire time, showing Red his well-polished badges as well as the new additions to the collection, and listing off his many “conquests” with gorgeous women. The only thing that aroused Red’s interest during Green’s lengthy self-praise was a strangely designed pokeball in the latter’s possession. Rather than the standard red and white motif, it was glossy gray on its bottom half, intricate swirls engraved on its surface. Its top half was plain white and its button, light blue along with the light emitted behind it. Red rolled it over in his hands, studying it. The device was heavier than the usual pokeball but only slightly; one would have to be a trainer to really notice. Green had flashed a cocksure grin when Red had asked about its origins.

“If you’re trying to get a hold of that anywhere, forget it. My grandfather gave it to me. Nowhere in the world has a pokeball like that.” Green's eyes sparkled. Of course. THE professor Oak, a prominent pokemon scientist and researcher was Green’s Grandfather; it was almost mandatory that he would have access to these sorts of things. Red felt the frigid fingers of envy caress his heart. It was the first time he wanted something his abhorrent childhood “friend” had.

“So what manner of mediocrity have you been up to? Other than getting rid of your ‘stay fresh’ packaging, I mean.” Green grilled him with a smirk. Smug satisfaction bounced around in Red's skull when he revealed that he’d slept with another woman besides the one he’d (eventually) mentioned, effectively wiping Green’s snobbish smile off his face.

“You really aren’t as dull as you make yourself out to be!” Green looked incredulous. He recovered quickly, however. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. To me, you’ll always be that snot-nosed, annoying, nobody kid-neighbour.” It was the usual taunting. But for some reason, it irked Red all the same. He was going to shoot off a retort when Green continued.

“Although, you’ve improved somewhat, as of late.” Green averted his gaze. “But only just a little.” He added quickly, with a nonchalant wave of his hand. Now it was Red’s turn to look incredulous.

Did he just compliment...me?

It was backhanded, sure, but it was praise nonetheless. Red never thought he’d see the day. First the inconceivable, the utterly revolting in Cerulean City and now this. Arceus must be bored.

“So!" Green said loudly, clearly eager to move on to another topic. "What are you doing in Vermillion City, anyways?” Green fiddled with his pokedex. Red explained that after he’d beaten Misty, she’d given him advice as to where his next destination should be.

“Oh, Cerulean’s famous redhead, huh? I guess she’s sort of impressive. Kinda cute, too. Getting a Starmie to do such a high level Watergun isn’t so easy." He turned his attention to his wristwatch, tinkering with it for a bit before continuing to tamper with the pokedex. Red was stunned. Was this really Green giving out kudos so freely? Was this really Green being so generous with his accolades?

**_Green?_ **

Maybe the years have been better to him than Red originally thought, maturing his mental faculties, humbling him and turning him into a much more tolerable, pleasant human being. Red felt himself relax a bit as he smiled, thoroughly impressed by his rival's change. The steel doors encasing his heart deteriorated even further and more flowers of comradeship bloomed, empressement flowing through his veins. For the first time in so long he actually felt comfortable in Green's company. It was the first time he actually felt anything but displeasure towards him. He chuckled.

"Yeah, she was tough. I actually struggled a bit," he confessed. He felt a blush spread across his cheeks as he remembered her outside the gym environment. Green nodded and gave a short hum in acknowledgement continuing, to play with the pokedex.

"In fact, she’s-"

"She's nothing special, though. I beat her in about ten minutes flat." Green quipped, eyes never leaving the device in his hands.

The flowers fucking died.

The flowers fucking wilted, metamorphosing into a pile of gray, a decayed mess. The steel doors repaired themselves, fortified with anger and disappointment, stronger than they'd ever been. He could kick himself, his umbrage palpable, staining his mouth with such acerbity, he almost gagged. His eyes narrowed as he studied Green.

_I almost told this fuckface I slept with Misty._

Red was thankful that Green interrupted him despite him being a colossal dick. He wouldn't put it past him to throw that information back into his face in the most humiliating way possible. If Green saw the venomous look he was sending his way, he didn't indicate any awareness. He hadn't even noticed he'd cut into what Red had to say. He proceeded to stroke his ego, squeezing it and jerking it off like he was so used to doing. Red felt something crack inside his mind.

"Of course, my pokemon were at a higher level."

Another crack.

"Are at a higher level," he corrected.

Something broke.

Then Green did that **_thing_**. The **_thing_** where he squinted his eyes into slits and leaned in, wiggling his eyebrows at Red. He absolutely loathed when he did that. It was him clearly rubbing his superiority in his face, scrubbing it in, making sure it permeated his pores, that it seeped into his flesh, that it soaked into his bones.

_Making sure he makes me feel like complete and utter shit._

There was a crackling in his head and Green's voice steadily sounded like it was further away. The words became blurred, then muffled.

Then there was silence.

_Red had his face pressed up against the window, hands spread on either side of his cheeks and glued to the cool glass, staring at the way the glass fogged with every breath he exhaled. He'd been waiting for a while now, looking out for the arrival of someone or something. He looked back at his mother who'd smiled at him, maternal tenderness glowing in her eyes and imbued in her smile._

_A dark and melancholy aura pulsated just below her surface._

_He turned his attention back to the window, peering out, eagerly awaiting..._

_What was he waiting for?_

_Who was he waiting for?_

_A head of wild, chestnut brown hair was in his field of vision now, unruly spikes golden in the sun's rays, its tips swaying with the gentle, chilly breeze of Autumn. Trees, almost bare, littered the streets and in some of the yards of his neighbours having shed their red and brown leaves which carpeted the village. A hand ran through the disorderly coiffure and the person craned his neck to the right. Piercing green eyes locked with his own and his heart fluttered a bit, happiness bubbling in the cauldron that was his stomach, his hands balled into small, excited fists, his feet sprouting springs, making his body bob up and down. He pivoted his head to his mother who smiled and nodded knowingly; with that he bolted out the front door._

_Green grinned at him as he approached, almost toppling over the large, shiny object he had in tow. Red stared at it in awe. It was a mountain bike, its body gleaming chrome that twinkled in the evening sun. Crimson and black abstract markings graced the frame's surface, the wheel's rims matching the body's pattern. Mezzotinted into the handlebars was a well known logo, the one of a man riding a bike above the words 'Cerulean City Bike Shop' in cursive font. He burnt the image of the bike into his retinas, scanning and taking in every detail, his heart thundering in his little chest._

_"You like it?" Green asked, still grinning._

_"Yeah!" Red nearly shouted enthusiastically. Green nodded._

_"I figured you would. Gramps got it for me for my birthday. Cool, huh?" Green pointed a thumb behind him at the elderly man in question. Professor Oak, much less gray, approached them and rested a loving hand on his head._

_Red reached out to run his fingers over the handlebars when Green's hand snatched it. Red looked at him in shock and confusion._

_"What do you think you're doing?!" Green almost shrieked, his voice escalating a few octaves higher. He looked horrified. Red swallowed, embarrassment prickling at the nape of his neck, his body turning cold._

_"I-I just wan-wanted to-" Red sputtered in a small voice, looking sheepishly at Green._

_"Nuh uh!" Green shook his head rigorously. "This is a limited edition straight from the manufacturer in Saffron City! I can't have you messing it up!"_

_Then Green did that **THING**._

_"Especially since you can't even afford the cheapest bike." Red's breath hitched as abashment and vexation surged through his veins. His eyes stung, pressure building behind his nose as he clenched his fists, trying to hide his hurt._

_"Fine then," he said tightly. "Sorry." He headed back inside, dogged in his decision to not let Green get to him, to not let hot tears topple from their ducts and spill onto his cheeks. He faintly heard an "ow" and the hushed words of Professor Oak (most likely admonishing his Grandson's poor behaviour) but Red couldn't be bothered to find out. What Green said was an extremely low blow, even for him; his circumstances were uncontrollable. There was no reason to drag him through the dirt for it._

Green's babbling came into focus, forming coherent words, haziness clearing up.

"…the time, you know? If you'd like, I'd be happy to give you a few pointers on the best way to raise your Pokémon. You're already aware of how talented I am in the field with my Grandfather being a world renowned professor and all that." A vein throbbing and furious made its debut on Red's forehead. Green quit licking his own ass just long enough to notice.

"Dude, you feeling alright?" Red glowered at him, shaking his head in disgust before briskly walking away. He'd stayed long enough. There was no redemption for Green. The let down weighed heavier on him than he expected but he was even more disappointed in himself. Green had proven himself to be irrevocable time and time again; Red's silent thirst for Green's approval infuriated and sickened him. Sadness, longing, loneliness, the need for validation, the fear of never receiving it and his ire melded together, creating a batter, a putrid, ugly mixture that baked in his soul. Confusion saturated icing was slathered all over it and ignorance was the cherry perched on the entirely fucked up cake.

The cherry is what bothered him the most.

That cherry held no answers as to why the cake was what it was.

That cherry didn't tell him why the cake even existed.

That cherry _scared_ him.

The ground beneath his feet paid the price for his aggrieved state, his heels pounding the sidewalk. He didn't care where he ended up, as long as it was away from **_him_**. Green already made him uncomfortable most of the time but this was the first time his presence had plucked out so many other emotions, feelings he wasn't even aware he had. He didn't need this messed up side dish; his plate was full enough, thank you very much.

"Wait!" His ears threatened to implode from searing rage when he heard Green's voice inject itself into his eardrums.

"Wait!" His voice filled his body with ice and heat, the temperatures mixing into something unrecognisable and trickling through his veins.

"WAIT!" Red stopped and turned around to face him, his movements automatic, heeding his call and listening for what he had to say.

**What.**

"What's with you today? Post non-virgin jitters, perhaps?" Red's molars warned of the impending threat to level with his gums. He continued to grind them nonetheless, rage kept barely at bay by willpower, preventing his fingers from curling into themselves and putting in even more effort to refrain from gifting Green with a blackeye of unparalleled beauty.

_Two black eyes. It's good to be generous, after all._

Green's lips were parted a little to facilitate his panting, his face flushed crimson with effort. His glittering forehead had a few burnt sienna strands hugging it lovingly. Red's eyes roamed from off his face to his heaving chest; he was wearing an orange vest under his black jacket. His skin, sun-kissed, shimmered with sweat, the fruit of his labour. He had a chain around his neck, partially hidden behind his orange tank; Red briefly wondered if it was plain or if it had a pendant. He simmered down a little, disconcerted by his observation. Why was he paying such close attention to someone he hated?

…Did he really hate him?

Hate maybe too strong of a word. Red was brave enough to admit that. He was totally sure that he greatly disliked him, though. Green huffed a little in front of him.

“I almost forgot to tell you that I went to Bill’s! You know, the scruffy guy at the edge of Cerulean City? You can’t miss his house if you’re exploring. Well anyway, I got him to show me his rare pokemon. That added a lot of pages to my Pokedex. He’s a world famous Pokemaniac!” Red’s throat tightened around his windpipe. _When did he visit Bill? Did he see what I saw? No. No way. Green wouldn’t have seen that…thing. If he did, he would’ve told me. No. Green and I aren’t close. He’d most likely keep it to himself and pretend he didn’t see anything. Or maybe he told his grandfather…?_

“Red!” He was jarred out of his panicked mental jumble. Green frowned at him, clearly annoyed. He grabbed Red’s hand impatiently and shoved something into his hard and cold into his palm. Green’s features softened.

“I feel sorry for you, Red.” He said.

What. The. Fuck.

Red snarled, yanking his hand away from his grip. He glared at him. Green looked a little flustered and avoided his murderous gaze.

“No, really. You’re always plodding behind me.” Green gestured to the device in his hand. Red took the time to scrutinise it. It was a white oval instrument with a small rectangular screen glowing dully on its front. He flipped it open, revealing a touchscreen and upon pressing it, a list of names appeared. Scrolling through, Red saw that he was able to identify the pictures of people produced by tapping on one of the names.

“I’ll give you this little present as a favour. It’s a fame checker. Every new device syncs with the owner’s Vs. Seeker. It activates as soon as someone opens it.”

Red looked at him puzzled. Green shrugged.

“Basically it lets you read info on other pokemon trainers and what other people have to say about them. I have one but I don’t really check it often since I don’t give a hoot hoot about others. But a chatty little gossip like you?” He gestured to Red with a wave of his hand. “Huh! That thing’s perfect!” Red laughed scornfully in his head.

_Chatty little gossip?_

An image of a Poliwhirl screeching at a Poliwag for being blue popped into his mind.

“Well,” Green announced, adjusting his backpack with an abrupt jolt of his shoulder. “This time I really am gone-“ _Finally!_ “-so see ya!”. Green walked away. Red gazed at his retreating back until he disappeared around a corner; probably to go brag to someone else. Red relaxed, closing his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. He glanced at his watch. It was almost time for the cruise. He shoved the fame checker in his pocket as he made his way to the nearest inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green has his reasons for his attitude and Red is the way he is for a very good reason. Trust me on this:)


	5. Blood, Sweat and Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes up and is destroyed all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Guys! So this chapter is rather long but I felt that it needed to be in order to move the plot. I'm trying to rearrange my schedule so that I'll be able to update more frequently (Work, School and all that jazz) but no promises! The smut in this chapter is negligible (Sorry!). Hope you enjoy!

It was so bright.

Everything in the S.S. Anne gleamed and shone. The chandelier, large and elaborate with fake candles, boldly radiating harsh, amber light, the glow illuminating the expansive ballroom bathing everything, items and people alike phosphorescent under its gaze. The silverware, burnished and impeccably arranged onto the long, clothed dining table, sparkled invitingly. Red stared, scanning everything his eyes could take in. The silverware alone probably cost more than his mother's life savings, his life savings, their house and its possessions combined. His eyes swept the table, taking in every detail. Plates were heaped full of varieties of meats and seafood, colourful and attractively placed. An array of side dishes and fruits piled into each bowl. An agglomeration of sauces, each of varying viscosity sat in their individual sauce boats, shining.  Each dish had their own label politely stating what they contained. The prickling  of self-consciousness tickled the hair on the nape of his neck and made his ears tingle.

The only thing he recognised on the dilatant buffet table was the bowl of green salad.

In fact, the only thing he could pronounce was 'chicken', 'rice' and 'gravy'.

There were dishes he'd never even heard about.

Women clad in elegant dresses of sweeping length glided across the wine red carpeted floor, tittering and chatting quietly amongst themselves. The men congregated with each other, some of them with distended stomachs, pregnant with the spoils of living such a lavish lifestyle. A band of five played orchestral music softly, the notes tinging the air with its soothing sound. An ice sculpture of a Dewgong sat in the middle of the large room, its surface reflecting the light, gold swirling and shimmering on its superficies. A few dressed up Piplup and Squirtle did bubble attacks at each other, the resulting collision exploding in a show of glittered water that floated in the air. All of it, as marvelling as it was, was unsettling. Everything was so...quiet. It was almost like there was some unspoken code of conduct that demanded as much silence as possible. Also, even though it flattered his body and earned some stares and coy smiles froma few women, his tuxedo was far too restricting. He'd tugged at his bow tie almost incessantly (he stopped abruptly when some older men began looking at him curiously). The thick material of his suit had him extremely warm, despite the cruise ship being air conditioned. If these were the requirements of being in such social gatherings, then he echoed Bill's sentiments.

_I really don't belong here._

There was a soft tap on his shoulders; he turned around and almost gasped when he saw who it was. He'd thought she was pretty before, she was absolutely _stunning_ now.

Giselle stood before him on a long black dress that boasted a deep plunging V-neckline that made her breasts peek teasingly out of their confines. The dress hugged her waist and hips, accentuating her figure and flared out at her knees. The right side of her hair was pinned back, dark loose curls cascading and settling onto her left shoulder. Giselle was quite the beauty when she didn't don her school uniform (or anything at all, for that matter).

She held his arm and tilted her head backs she stepped closer to him, tiptoeing and whispering into his ear, "I'm so fucking bored. Wanna go somewhere else?". Red nodded and she looped her hand around the crook of his elbow escorting him upstairs into a hallway with rooms flanking its sides. She slid he hand down to his, grasping two of his fingers and pulling him gently into the third door on the right. Red beheld his surroundings. A king sized bed stood intermediately of the room, burgundy sheets and  pillows adorned its mattress, matching the cloth that comprised the canopy hovering elegantly above, its ends resting comfortably against the four bedposts. Two nightstands stood on either side, above the left one, a window displaying the dark, vast sea, moonlight illuminating its waters, ripples distorting the planet's reflection in its surface.

Giselle plopped herself down on the right side bed and kicked off her heels, grimacing and hissing as she rubbed her ankles. She then opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out four long leaves. She grinned at Red, mischief glinting in her eyes and beckoned to him with an index finger. Red sat next to her and plucked one of the leaves out to her hand, staring at it in confusion. Giselle looked at the leaf and then back to him.

"Have you ever done this before?" She asked, rummaging through the drawer.

"Done what before?" Red asked, still studying the leaf, perplexed. She laughed heartily, the cheerfulness of it bouncing gently off the walls of the room and relaxing the atmosphere even further.

"You're so innocent!" She giggled. He smiled and shrugged. She reached under her bed, searching for something and Red heard a dull clink. She pulled out a glass apparatus with a long, narrow neck that widened to a bulb at its end. A short piece stuck out at its protuberance, some sort tube that blocked by a metal sieve placed a little way in, creating an pouch of some sort.

A bong. Red grinned.

_This girl took me up here to get baked._

Giselle tore off a piece of the leaf in his hand, crushed it into a ball and stuffed it into the tube, lighting it a few seconds later. Red felt himself like Giselle more; she wasn't the stuck up, stuffy brat her first impression made her out to be. He watched her, a small smile of amusement playing on his lips as she pressed her lips around the opening, sucking in a long, deep breath, smoke evacuating into her lungs, the water settled at the bottom of the bong bubbling happily.

"What type of weed is this?" Red inquired, scrutinising the leaf. Over the past year or so, he'd become acquainted with different varieties of the drug and even indulged in a few now and then but he'd never seen this before. The leaves were at least twelve to fifteen inches in length and they widened at their middle, attenuating to a point at its end. The colour was strange too; the weed he knew of always ranged from pale to deep moss green. This one declared a bright green pigment, not unlike the typical well-manicured lawn. Red brought it to his nose and sniffed. It's scent was extremely different. The leaf itself had a mild, earthy smell like freshly cut grass after a heavy rain but when Giselle exhaled, a sweet scent wafted into the air, the mist thick and warm. There was no burnt, forest fire smell that was the usual for weed, that suffocating aroma. It was pleasing, mild and sweet. He began to feel light headed, it was _that_ potent.

"S'not weed," Giselle managed through a choked gasp and a few coughs. "It's Blue Leaf."

 "How do you get it?" Red asked, taking the bong from her and stuffing a piece of balled up blue leaf into the tube. She tossed the lighter to him and he ignited it, moving the flame to the tube.

"Oddish." She coughed. Red extinguished the flame with a flick of his wrist and gaped at her, alarmed. Harvesting the parts of Pokémon wasn't only cruel, it was-

"Isn't that illegal?" Red tried to stop the panic from leaking into his voice. Giselle gave him a wide eyed, incredulous look. Then burst into blaring laughter, doubling over and clutching her sides. While Red was surprised at the revelation (horrified, really) Giselle's cachinnation made him feel stupid. Of course she would have access to things like this; she was from the circle where almost any crime could be hand waved by the right amount of funds scrawled onto a cheque. People from this circle were somewhat above the law. Shamefaced, he forced a chuckle. Giselle wiped her cheeks, smearing eyeliner-mixed tears across them.

"Oh! You were joking!" She wagged an index finger at him in mock warning. "You had me! I almost thought you were serious!" She giggled some more then snorted, wiping her nose. She then dipped her head towards the bong, motioning to it. "Go on. Pull." She urged. She stared at him intensely and wiped her nose again. He turned his attention to the bong, staring at it. Red was against Pokémon cruelty. He loved Pokémon with every fiber of his being.

He was also _VERY_ curious.

An Oddish's leaves regenerated themselves after a few months after sustaining injury or natural shedding so there was never any permanent damage. In fact, they even dropped leaves as a distraction to escape predators. So it wasn't cruelty. It was perfectly alright.

Right?

Red's mouth plugged the opening of the bong before he could talk himself out of it. The smoke tickled the back of his throat and made a mild heat gather in his lungs. He inhaled until if felt like his chest would burst, feeling the mist creep into his head and fog his mind. He exhaled through his nose, smoke filtering out of his nostrils in a steady stream. He turned his gaze to Giselle and as if some sort of telepathic joke passed between them, they burst out laughing. She took another hit, not even bothering to take the bong from Red, instead opting to take her dose herself from out of his hand. His vision started to blur, the room beclouded with Oddish smoke. Giselle was saying something, distorted sounds coming out of her glossy pink lips, the words muffled and incomprehensible. He vaguely remembered the bong being forcefully removed from his hand, or his back bouncing against the bed, his arms sprawled at his sides. The canopy swam and swayed to non-existent wind and colours of every shade and combination he hadn’t considered possible waltzed around his line of sight. An invisible force was pulling his eyelids shut and he surrendered, allowing his consciousness to be gobbled into gaping mouth of darkness.

_He’d seen this person before. She was curvy. She smelled nice. She had a nice rack._

_She was beautiful._

_Even though her face was obscured by the sunlight that touched everything its rays rested on, the tall bushes they stood in and every blade of grass that covered the vast lush field that stretched on ahead, he knew what she looked like. Long stalks tickled his calves and upper thighs. She smiled and beckoned to him with a slightly curved index finger. His feet stepped in front of themselves, his body drawn to hers like a magnet. He didn’t really know her personally but he wasn’t in the least apprehensive, he didn’t feel the need to hesitate. It was only when he was arm’s length away from her he realized they were naked._

_He didn’t question it._

_It felt natural, like he was used to doing this._

_She stepped closer, and pressed her palm to the side of his face. He let out a sigh, sinking into the warmth against his cheek and leaning into the touch, holding her wrist lightly. It was so soothing and he felt utterly at peace. He reached down and captured her lips with his, pushing his tongue into her mouth and hearing her moan when hers embraced his. The soft, wet muscles played with each other, their saliva mingling and becoming one, trickling down their chins. He blinked and suddenly found himself on all fours; the woman was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t concerned; he was biting his lip in anticipation, in fact. He felt soft palms spread on his hips, one hand slid slow and deliberate to the center of his back, just below his shoulder blades and pressed lightly. Red heeded the non-verbal command, slipping to rest on his forearms and elbows. Soon, he felt both hands pull his hips upwards and a slender thigh pushed between his legs nudging them apart. He obeyed._

_He had his legs spread open, and his ass in the air on full display. He felt the light sting of his buttcheeks when those soft hands spanked him playfully, massaging and squeezing his hips intermittently._

_He wasn’t humiliated in the slightest._

_He was keening softly, craving more._

_He mewled and felt his eyelids flutter when she fondled his balls, gently kneading and toying with them. She was beneath him suddenly, grabbing his shoulders and tugging him to her face. Placing her hand behind his head, she pushed his head over her shoulder, breathing heavily and yelled into his ear-_

“RED!” His eyes popped open at his name. Giselle was hovering above him, slightly concerned and a bit peeved. She started to pack up all of the drug paraphernalia and hastily put on her shoes and straightened her dress. Red watched her, dazed. She turned to him suddenly and reached across, shaking him by the shoulders.

“You gotta go! My boyfriend’s coming here to pick me up. We’re going to dock in ten minutes!” Red scrambled to his feet, almost tripping over himself as he stumbled to the door. She moved towards him, opening the door and pushing him into the hallway. Red blinked at her, still absolutely out of it.

“It was nice.” She smiled, then slammed the door shut in his face. Red’s mouth had flopped open to respond but he shut it before the door had even closed. He was too high to formulate sensible words anyway. He trudged through the hallway and made his way down the stairs, one agonizingly slow step at a time. He was sobering up but only just a little as he walked through the ballroom and headed to the long dining table that was still steeped with food. He picked up a plate and was about to heap it with some sort of chicken-rice dish when he felt a tap on his shoulders. He turned around lazily.

And his heart sank.

Green stood before him, grinning. The effects of the drug was still in his system so his discomfort was dulled but it was present, throbbing in his chest cavity faintly. Green placed a hand on his shoulder, a smile lingering on his lips and concern wrinkling his forehead.

“Are you okay?” Red slapped his hand away and returned to dishing out his food.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled. Though Green startled him, he wasn’t surprised that he was on the cruise. He was from the upper crust, at least his Grandfather was anyway, so it wasn’t a stretch that he’d be here. Red was just really hoping that he wouldn’t run into him. He didn’t even attempt to hide his displeasure.

“You clean up well, Red.” Green admitted. Red felt himself blush and got angry at his reaction. He wouldn’t get caught up in his flattery. Green was still Green.

“Hm. Thanks.” He mumbled, dismissively. There was an awkward silence while he concentrated on the buffet, scooping into one of the dishes. Some of it spilled on the table and onto the carpet.

“You’re making a mess. Well that’s sort of expected.” Red’s eyes flicked up, looking ahead of him. He took a deep breath and forced his eyes back onto the plate. He could feel heat pooling into his tux.

“What do you mean by that, Green?” He inquired, faux-sweetness dripping from his question. He’d meant to ignore him but the words poured out of his mouth before he was able to filter or silence them.

“Well, you can’t serve yourself Iskilip Dolmasi with a cream soup spoon.” Green chuckled lightly. Red looked at him through the corner of his eye. He looked serious. Nervous, even. “It’s kind of expected that you’d do that since…well…you know.” He rubbed at the back of his head and averted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “You wouldn’t know how we…um…we…conduct ourselves.” His voice had gotten quieter coming down to the end of his antsy explanation and he adjusted his bow tie. Coming to think of it, it was the first time Red had ever heard Green fumble over his words. He was far too offended to mull over the fact.

Red calmly placed the plate on the table, and picked up a gravy boat, pouring brown thick liquid over his food, the copious amount pooling at the edge of the dish. Though his innards boiled with rage and disgust, his features were placid. Basically, Green was trying to politely say that he didn’t belong there. And while Red agreed to some extent, it wasn’t Green’s place to tell him that.

“You’re not the only one who can piggy back off of someone else’s success, Green.” He hadn't spoken loud but in the hushed atmosphere of the S.S.Anne, he may as well have been shouting. It grew even quieter, and all polite whispering stopped. Heads craned to their direction, surveying the situation. The soft music continued to play, the musicians oblivious to the altercation unfurling. He continued dressing his food, pouring about four other sauces into the now soppy concoction. He was overdoing it, he knew, but he might as well take advantage of what he had access to while he had the chance, right?

He could almost hear Green seething behind him; his rival's silence prompted him to turn around. Sure enough, Green was glowering at him. Red took some satisfaction in seeing him bristle. His jaw flexed under the skin pulled taut over it and his eyes were a darker shade, an aura of danger swirling around him. Red observed him, impassively.

" _What_." Green hissed a statement rather than a question. Red continued to look at him square in the face.

"You heard me." Red said calmly, diverting his attention to the fresh salad. The crisp green leaves crunched as he squeezed them with a pair of tongs, shaking excess water off lightly and placing them carefully on top of his heaping plate. "With your superior hearing, I'm sure you heard every word. You are _so_ much better than everyone else, after all." Bitterness seeped into his last sentence and Red began to actively look for alcohol to dull the emotions beginning to push against his heart and the inside of his chest, that ugly mix of feelings that made him so uncomfortable, the ones that the Oddish weed _clearly_ missed, much to his annoyance. Green snorted behind him, puffing out sarcasm and disbelief.

"I was just telling you that you were making a mess. It's not my fault that in that hovel you call home, you didn't learn proper etiquette." Green's voice had risen and now even the musicians were tuning into the Trash Talk Show. Red felt his insides ignite but his face remained serene. He faced Green.

"It's not my fault, either," Red replied coolly. "I'm curious to know where you'd be if your Grandfather wasn't so successful." Some gasps wafted through the quiet ballroom and Green's eyes flickered to the patrons that were looking at them intently. His face reddened even further. To Red, only Green existed, his surroundings completely blocked out in favour of correcting the turd in the immaculate tuxedo. Green's eyes rolled upwards and an incredulous chuckle laced with acridity rumbled out of his throat.

"I'm curious how you would have turned out if my tux didn't cost more than your house, Red." He had the audacity to say it without a grin on his face, of course, and why not? It wasn't a laughing matter. But this demeanour distinguished the difference between the ribbing he often subjected Red to and the grave insult he just delivered. The distinction was subtle but it was there. Red vaguely heard more gasps and the harsh whispers that sliced through the thick silence of the S.S. Anne.  His tranquil surface rippled and a huffed, curt laugh pushed through his vocal chords. He tilted his head to the side and regarded Green, his lips stretched into a fake smile almost painfully against his face. He let out an exaggerated sigh, holding the plate of...whatever he transformed it into in front of him. He looked at it, then at Green.

And with the smile still glued to his face, he swung the plate, breaking it against Green's temple.

The ballroom reeked of dead air; it was so still that the patter of sauce saturated rice and chicken could be heard hitting the carpet, the fresh salad scattered amongst the mess, its leaves in stark contrast to the dark, wet clutter on the floor. Green's head had shot to the side with the impact and he slowly turned it to look at Red, clumps of rice clinging affectionately to his face and hair. Crimson streams made lanes over the left side of his face, coating his eyebrows, dripping over his eyelid and continuing their path to the point of his chin. He touched his hand gingerly to his face and his eyes widened when he saw his blood. His eyebrows clenched together, strands of his brown hair that wasn't matted to his forehead shook and trembled along with his body. The blood dripped off his chin and onto his white shirt, staining it. Red was shaking off some of the rice and excess sauce off of his fingers as he walked up to him and before Green could recover, he grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him onto the table, knocking over a few bowls and silverware and upturning a few of the dishes that were sitting serenely, minding their own business. Green was on his feet in the space of a second, slamming a goblet into the right side of Red's face. The impact stung and Red's hand flew up to his face protectively, sticky, scarlet fluid leaking between his fingers. Red glimpsed the broken goblet on the ground and noted the there was a dark spot growing by its mouth. With the way his wound burned, he figured that that was the alcohol he was searching for earlier, the scorching liquid that would have calmed him and most likely prevented this mess. He growled and years of frustration at Green's antics erupted from his lungs in an enraged yell. Charging forward, he bowed his head. The crown of his head collided into Greens sternum, rewarding him with a surprised and pained "oof!" from the other. His hands gripped his back, his fingers digging into it as they went tumbling onto the floor, a tangled mess of flailing limbs, brandished fists and squirming legs, their cacophony of expletives and insults dampening the air. Green managed to straddle him, wasting no time in burying his knuckles into the wound on his cheek with his right hand, planting his left fist into his eyes shortly after. Red yelped and grabbed Green's face, teeth bared. In a swift motion he slipped both thumbs into his eyes, feeling the pliable texture of the organ press against his thumb pads through his eyelids, almost grinning with satisfaction. Green slapped his hands away, scuttling off of him, cradling his face in his hands. He curled into a foetal position as he cursed, howling and hissing in pain. Red forced his body roll over, his face throbbing its protests, slick with sweat and blood. He readied himself for his next assault. Big, strong hands grabbed him, one clutching the scruff of his collar, the other wrenching his arm behind his back, pushing it up so his body went up to his toes. He grimaced, his eyes still locked on Green. A tall man in a three piece suit and shades hoisted Green to his feet by his shoulders; his howling long since reduced to hisses and whimpers, his hands melded over his face. He removed them slowly, his digits trembling as he glared at Red through bloodshot eyes. Red snorted and felt a wad of blood and thick saliva slide down his throat; his right eye was closed, already swollen shut. Hard shoves escorted both young men out the cruise ship’s entrance, onto the ramp and synchronised kicks sent them face first into dirt. Red raised his head weakly to look back at the S.S.Anne.

The patrons were lead down another ramp at an alternate entrance. Their distant chattering faded then ceased as they got into limousines and other luxury vehicles and departed. Red flopped painfully onto his back, dishevelled and dirty, staring at the night sky. Infinite stars winked down at him from the heavens, the moon studying the scenario that had unfolded quietly. Red closed his eyes and his breathing slowed, the cool night air and the peace of its stillness calmed him, gently nudging him down from his adrenaline (Oddish) high. A deep sigh eased out of his swelled chest and his body got heavier, completely relaxed for the first time in days. He took another deep breath and relished in the release of tension. His discharge of pent up emotions had resulted in a fist fight, and the sting of embarrassment made his cheeks burn but the weight that pressed cruelly on his shoulders had lifted and that was just… _perfect_.  

It made his heart lighter.

He _felt_ it. The bitterness, disgust and anger had dissolved when he slapped Green across the face with a plate of food and buried his thumbs into his eyes. And if Green never wanted to speak to him again after this, it would be fine.

_I don’t need him. He was never my friend, anyway._

The acceptance of this was a little painful; regardless of all that happened, Green was still the one he played with growing up. He’d know him all his life; it was hard to just throw that away. But whether he saw Green again or not, it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

He was simply okay with how everything played out.

He’d fought against Green and in the process stopped fighting against himself. A smile stretched across his face and he closed his eyes. A few drops of liquid hit his forehead and slid off his nose, across his cheek and into his ear.  He reopened his eyes expecting to see an overcast sky. Instead, he stared right into Green’s soul through his eyes, barely contained rage bubbling behind his pupils. More blood rolled off the left side of his face. Red looked at him, expressionless.

“Get. The fuck up. Now.” The words tainted with his rage squeezed through two welded rows of teeth. Red obeyed, dusting off his clothes. Green had sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and a trail of blood made its way to the point of his chin. Coming to think of it, this was the first time he’d ever seen Green so vexed. He mentally shrugged.

“How many Pokemon do you have on you?” Green’s voice sounded like it was about to snap at any moment.

“One.” Red responded. Green walked away some distance and tossed his Pokeball into the air. A bucktoothed Raticate materialized, gnashing its teeth and letting out a cry. Red mirrored his action, Charmeleon glaring at both the Raticate and Green as though it knew of the events that had transpired. There was nothing to signify the start of the battle; Green just started shouting his attacks. And while Green was a repulsive braggart, boastful of his talents and ambitions and audibly proud of his skills Red had to admit that he had every right to be.

His Raticate had attacks and combos that were beyond impressive. They were downright _magnificent_. This chubby rat, whose species Red always thought was better suited for contests, was far more agile than his Charmeleon, weaving through all the clawed punches, scratches and tail lashes it launched its way. At one point, the Charmeleon charged at it, its head lowered and arms pressed to its sides, clawed feet piercing into the ground leaving clouds of dust in its wake; the Raticate dodged it easily in a blur of brown, swiftly moving to the side and grabbing its ignited tail, implanting its teeth into it. The Charmeleon's mouth flung open, a pained screech erupting from its chest. Blood spurted from the wound; Red winced at his starter’s screams. The damn rat almost bit right through the tail. The pain infuriated the injured beast, its tail blazed as though gasoline had been poured onto it. The sudden heat made the Raticate jump away, landing a little distance from its owner’s feet. Red surveyed the damage. The Charmeleon’s tail was almost mangled; strips of its red skin, hung limply from it. From the wound onwards to the tail’s tip slouched a little; Red nearly let his face show emotion when he saw something white peek out from the bloody mess. Bone. The fucking Raticate almost chomped the tail right off. His Charmeleon had never sustained damage to this extent before and as horrified as he was seeing his beloved starter ripped apart like that, excitement tickled his stomach and made his heart flutter. He tore his attention from his bellowing fire type and looked at Green. He was absolutely floored when he saw that Green wasn’t smirking confidently. He didn’t see any smugness in his eyes. There was no arrogance in his stance. His eyebrows were glued together in concentration, his eyes shone with the illumination of his starter’s tail and determination. Moonlight reflected off the sweat streaking down his face, carving lines into the blood-caked left side of his face. Red’s intestines twisted into those familiar knots and the heat he knew so well began radiating from his stomach, swelling at the base of his rib cage, the pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, almost deafening.

 He welcomed the feeling.

Red _NEVER_ got nervous before a gym battle. He was confident in his abilities and the power of his Pokemon; there was never any reason to be. This feeling in his chest was more than the thrill of facing off against such a skilled trainer. He hated to admit it but the fact was glaring at him, impossible to ignore.

It was admiration.

He admired Green.

Red yelled an attack and the Charmeleon widened its stance, its tail blazing even brighter, the glow bathing Green and his Raticate in orange-golden light. Green looked on, calm and calculating, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The horned lizard shot forward; the Raticate dug its toenails into the ground, bracing itself, its clawed limbs up and ready to counter. The Charmeleon leaped into the air, crimson droplets drizzling from its wound and dampening the earth below, angry sizzling accompanied by wisps of smoke from the clash of blood and fire rang through the night along with a burnt, metallic stench. Green’s head snapped up to the Charmeleon, briefly gaping in surprise; his eyes widened when he realised what was about to happen. He yanked his head back to his Raticate and yelled for it to dodge.

Too late.

The scarlet lizard’s chest swelled, rapidly expanding with the deep breath it took and it exhaled with even more fervor. Scorching air licked and nipped at his skin, stifling his lungs and making it hard to breathe. The jacket of his tux flapped furiously behind him. Dust invited itself into his eyes causing them to water and squint shut. Red waited for the smoke and dust to clear, his heart pulsing in his throat. It subsided gradually revealing a silhouette with a glowing tail panting heavily. A spec a little bigger than half of his fingernail landed on his nose. He grabbed at it and looked at his fingers. They were smeared black. Ashes.  He tilted his head skywards; there were more descending from the night sky, floating down gracefully despite their sinister meaning. He looked back to the scene before him. A charred lump on the ground breathed weakly, its soft pitiful wails yanking at his heartstrings. Its long wiry tail was gone, karmic retribution for its earlier attack. Patches of red skin, blistered and watering stared at him where its fur had been burnt off and its whiskers were reduced to a severely damaged pair.

It was a seared disaster.

Red saw the glint in his starter’s eyes; his sadist was acting up. Before it could sink its teeth into the barbequed Raticate, Red threw his pokeball, capturing it in the midst of a low growl rumbling out its throat. He turned to Green. His strong, brave, unflappable rival was on his knees, staring at his beloved Raticate. He crawled forward, covering his well-tailored pants with dirt and soot. His shaking fingers caressed the smoking Raticate’s cheek; he recoiled sharply when its precious pair of whiskers crumbled under his touch. He was biting the inside of his lip; the action would’ve been imperceptible to most but this was Red’s rival since they were kids. He could tell. He could see Green fighting to keep under control beneath his cold exterior. That Raticate was precious to him; the very fact that it came out of the pokeball his esteemed Grandfather gave him was proof enough. Remorse kicked in his stomach and regret made a sour lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected his Charmeleon to go all out on its opponent. He’d trained it to hold back in fights unless he gave the signal to go into overdrive (two fingers pressed against his forehead above his right eyebrow in a sort of informal salute).

 It was negligence on his part.

 He was well aware his fire type’s temper matched the very flames it spouted out its mouth if not even more intense; he should’ve monitored the situation more closely when its tail got chewed on. Charmander and all its evolutions exercised extreme caution when it came to their tails; it was their lifeline, after all. He _knew_ this. He’d done his research. He was well aware. Guilt pinched his insides and shame averted his eyes from the scene. All the while, something else snaked its way into his mind, slithering throughout his body and numbing all the other emotions into a dull hum. Some sadistic side of him enjoyed seeing Green in a crumpled mess, on his knees, dirtied and broken from being unceremoniously kicked off his self-appointed pedestal, the destruction of his ego on full display. He gloated mildly despite his contrition.

It made him feel even worse.

For once in his life he got the chance to look down on his nemesis. He finally understood why Green engaged in the abhorrent behaviour so often. It felt _good_. Green had made him feel lower than dirt and crushed his very soul more times than he could count. On some occasions, he would even cry. Green was the ONLY person that has ever made him cry.

Or feel to.

And now the tables had been turned. Flipped over and destroyed, in fact. In all the times Green had antagonized Red, he’d held his composure until behind closed doors. Green was falling apart bit by bit, slowly but surely, right in front of him. He looked…pitiful.

A part of him felt terrible. A part of him _loved_ it.

That alarmed him. But only a little.

Red walked slowly, tentatively to his rival. The young man was hunched over his Raticate, its smoking body scarring the air with the scent of burnt flesh. A traumatic defeat. His feet stopped a little way from his pokemon and Green didn’t look up. He just took out the gray and white pokeball and returned the battered creature into it. Red didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say anything; he feared that his words would be insincere. Green finally stood up, not even bothering to dust off his pants. Tears quaked on his lower eyelid, glistening in the moonlight, threatening to shame him with their descent down his cheeks. However, Green didn’t look angry. Green didn’t look sad. Green didn’t look like he was…anything. He was expressionless. It stole the pride that had ballooned in Red’s chest, bursting it and causing the dull hum of remorse, shame and regret to escalate into a deafening roar. He didn’t mean to go so far. He didn’t mean to hurt him. He just-

_I wanted him to stop looking down at me. I wanted him to see me as his equal._

Red bit his lip and he felt like crying too. He didn’t mean for this to happen. Green was staring at him, through him rather. That empty look. It was like the manner of his defeat sucked the life out of him, suctioned everything out of him, leaving behind a dried out husk, useless and to be discarded. The gravity of his actions slammed into him like a truck when he acknowledged that he hated _this look_ more that that **_thing_**. And if Green’s constant put downs, insults and overall assholery made him feel bad before, this made him feel 100 times _worse_. He remembered watching a show once where the lead character believed that it was better to be hurt than to hurt others.

Red had never heard truer words.

His lips trembled and his Adam’s apple bobbed to the rhythm of words that couldn’t make it past his vocal chords. There was no warmth in his body anymore. Then Green _laughed_. A sardonic, biting laughter that caused him to squeal and wipe tears from his eyes.

Laughter so fake and angry, it made Red cringe as it licked his eardrums.

Laughter that made him want to run away and never show his face in Vermillion City ever again.

Laughter that stabbed him in the gut, tearing at his bowels.

Laughter that kept him frozen to one spot, appalled and muted.

Green stopped laughing, simmering down into bitter, hollow chuckles as he eyed Red, his eyes regaining not exactly their life but something entirely different. And as much as it terrified Red, it also intrigued him

_Of course he wouldn’t be broken by something like this. He’s Green._

He still felt compelled to say something. Guilt probably had something to do with that (Guilt had a _lot_ to do with that).

“Green-”, he tried, softly.

“Don’t.” Green held his hand up, signalling Red to stop in his tracks. “Just. _Don’t_.” His voice was almost a whisper and swollen with sorrow. Red obliged and silence swallowed them. They stared into each other’s eyes, Green’s (almost) empty spheres peering at him till Red broke his gaze and began to fidget. He looked everywhere else, at the dark silhouettes of the surrounding trees, at the buildings whose lights glinted in the distance, anywhere else but his neighbour for about a minute before he ran out of places to stare at (or at least pretend to). He sighed, relenting and his gaze landed back onto his rival.

Green was still staring.

“If you hurry, you might be able to save it.” Red said, quietly. Green giggled.

Green. _Giggled_.

Red’s heart was sitting on his stomach. He didn’t think it could sink any further. He licked his lips nervously, took a breath and tried again.

“There’s a centre-”

“IT’S FUCKING DEAD, RED!” Green shouted. The sudden loudness rattled his bones and made his skin jump. The tense atmosphere was strangling, gorged with the suffocating silence. The moon and stars looked down at them, observing quietly, heavenly bodies that were free of the involvement in death of Green’s Raticate. Red envied them. He sighed, solemnly. Green sniffed and Red searched frantically for words of comfort, sentences that would provide some sort of solace.

“You’re probably glad that this happened, huh?” Green accused, his voice slightly below its normal volume.

_A little, yes_.

“No,” Red said, quickly. “I didn’t expect for this to happen.” That was the truth. He really hadn’t anticipated the conclusion to the battle. Green gave a half smile, curling up the left side of his lips. He belted out a scornful, abrupt chortle.

“Liar.” He said, calmly.

_I am a bit of one, yes_.

“I’m being honest, Green. I-” Red couldn’t formulate the words he felt he should say.

“So the _nobody_ actually beat _somebody_. I guess you can put that medal with the rest of ones you don’t have.” Red felt his hackles rise, pushing his regret back a little into the recesses of his mind. He tried to stay calm.

“Green-”

“I mean, look at you! You know?!” Green half laughed, half snorted, sweeping his hand up and down, gesturing to Red scornfully. Red felt his fists tremble.

“Look, I-”

“You couldn’t even win against me fair and square! You had to kill my pokemon in order to even have a chance! That’s how much of a loser you are!” Green’s words hit him like daggers, burying themselves and making him ooze anger and guilt. Green was right in a sense; killing an opponent’s pokemon was dishonourable but-

_I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident. I’m just as good as he is._

Red took a step back when he saw glittering streams slide down Green’s cheeks.

Green was _crying_. **_Green_**.

It didn’t make him feel as good as he thought it would. He’d fantasized about this day countless times; now what he’d dreamed about was in front of him.

And he _hated_ that he was the cause.

Green rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his forearm, smearing tears and blood and snot onto it. Red shifted uncomfortably.

“You can still try to save it, Green.” The words had tumbled off his tongue, soft and bulging with regret. Green looked at him, utterly shocked. Then coughed out another bout of bitter laughter.

“Maybe if your Dad was around, he would have explained the Cycle of Life and Death. Clearly your Mom didn’t do it, useless bitch she is.” Red bit out a laugh and nodded.

“You know what? Fuck you and that ugly rat.” Red spat, his voice low and threatening. The inflection of his swear was so venomous that it pulled Green’s mouth agape. Red had already turned his back walking away. He shouldn’t have gone to the cruise. He should’ve just sold the ticket for a hefty price to the sleazy man dressed in all black he saw loitering around earlier. He’d have even more money for his journey then. He’d have eaten a hearty dinner of ramen noodles and fish. He’d have jacked off, watched TV and gone to sleep. None of this bullshit would’ve ever happened. He would’ve been happily going about filling up the Pokedex and training his Pokemon, occasionally encountering Green in annoying but non-volatile meetings along his way.

It wouldn’t have had to come to this.

“Your heart is just as ugly as that rat. That’s probably why your Dad left.” Green hollered at him, husky from the snot in his throat. Red spun around and ran-walked to him, invading his space, their noses only the length of an index finger apart.

“You’re just a sore loser, Green. I didn’t mean to kill the damn thing. It was an _accident._ ” He jabbed a finger into Green’s chest, sending him back a step, glaring all the while. “You wanna talk about my Dad leaving? You wanna call my Mom a bitch? Alright, Fine. Let’s go there. Yeah, my Dad left.” Red shrugged. “Must of left early too because I don’t remember his face. My Mom’s still here; she’s all I need. She’s far from useless and the only bitch I see here is you. Your Mom neglected you and your Dad was a fucking drunk that got them both killed because he decided that it would be a swell idea to be plastered behind the fucking wheel. My Dad may be a deadbeat but yours was even worse because he chose a fucking _drink_ over his own damn _son_. It’s a good thing they’re dead too. They won’t have to see what a fucked up job they did at raising their darling boy.”

He almost laughed when he felt the punch connect with his jaw. Green was now sitting on top of him, teeth bared, yelling things at him he heard but didn’t hear.

_Is it raining?_

Red looked past Green at the inky sky. The moon hovered clearly above them and the stars smirked and winked at them, but there were hardly any clouds. He felt more drops on his forehead, cheek and lips.

_Oh. He’s crying again._

Green was a sight to behold; moonlight shining through his hair giving it a white glow at its tips, his torso hunched over Red, covered in shadows and sparkling eyes crowned by angry eyebrows. He felt his body rise off the ground a few times; Green was shaking him ferociously by the lapels of his tux, pulling him up to his face until their foreheads united, screaming curses at him, and spouting poison, his rage and grief pushing at his face from the inside, manifesting in an ugly shade of scarlet. With a half-hearted punch to his face, Green finally got off him. He stood looking down at him for a bit before shaking his head slowly in disgust and walking away.

Red had stopped caring.

He couldn’t sink any lower than this. Killing his rival’s pokemon, taunting him about his dead parents. Granted, Green did call his Mom a bitch but he’d always strived to be the bigger person. It surprised and impressed him to know what he was capable of when he gave in to his anger. Red grimaced as he jaw. He wondered why Green had thrown such a weak punch.

_Must be grief._

He lay there, the cool night air soothing his tired limbs, and his burning face. He lost track of how long he lay there; a face loomed over his. He got up with a start, holding his head. It was the sleazy guy, the man who’d asked to buy his ticket. Red’s eyes followed him as he squatted, meeting his gaze at eye level.

“You and your pal had quite a fight, huh?” Red grunted in response.

“Well that’s how it goes sometimes,” the man consoled. “Friends are not always so good to have.”

“He wasn’t my friend,” Red corrected, voice barely above a whisper.

“…I see.” The man stayed quiet for a bit and Red vaguely wondered who he was and why he chose to speak to him. He ran a hand through his aquamarine hair.

“Kid, I’ll be frank with you. I’m a scout, looking for trainers of a high calibre and judging from your victory, you’re pretty damn decent. I’m from the underground elite and we need as many talented trainers as we can to fulfill our cause. We need _you_.” Red raised an eyebrow, very interested. The man smiled and extended his hand. Red took it and he helped him up.

“What’s your name, boy?” He asked.

“Red.”

“Red, huh? That’s simple enough. Easy to remember. I like it!” He clapped Red on the back a little too hard and Red coughed. The man then pulled out a white card and handed it to him.

“My number’s there. You can call me if-”

“I’ll join.” Red said. The man looked surprised, then grinned.

“A quick answer. I like you even more now, kid!” He draped an arm around Red’s shoulder. “We can start right away!” He retracted his arm and offered his hand to Red. Red shook it.

“Name’s Proton. Welcome to Team Rocket.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit. Damn, Red. 
> 
> Btw, who caught the Tokyo Ghoul reference? If you haven't seen Tokyo Ghoul yet, I suggest you give it a shot. Really great anime. XD


	6. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events after a time-skip unfold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There is alcoholism and slight blood in this chapter so if that bothers you please turn back now. I've added more tags. Please pay attention to them. I hope you enjoy the chapter! :)

Being the best wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

He sat on the right side of his King sized bed, with his elbows resting on his knees and his face hidden in his hands, the dim lights casting a soft glow throughout the spacious room as he tried to cope with that disappointing reality. Today was particularly vexing. He let out a long, loud sigh, letting his back slam against the bed. He glared at the ceiling above, then squinted his eyes shut and rubbed at them, trying to scrub away some of the frustration and tiredness.

_Might as well. Why not?_

Flopping onto his stomach, he reached for the nightstand stationed on the left side of his bedhead and pulled out a bottle of rum, pressing is lips to the bottles opening and taking long gulps of the scorching liquid. He’d buckled down and worked hard, propelling his way to the top. His pokedex was almost complete after walking through countless patches of grass, exploring numerous caves and trading, effectively making him one of the first trainers to reach near completion. Professor Oak praised him and thanked him on his work, his elderly chest swelled almost to bursting with pride. He remembered how the old man looked like he was about to explode, unshed tears glinting beside his crow’s feet, when he beat the Elite Four and became the Pokemon Champion of the Kanto Region; his starter, now a Blastoise, stayed by his side through his 6 year progress. He’d achieved what every serious trainer dreamed of.

His face was plastered on every newspaper. His profile was flooded with comments on the Fame Checker; he didn’t look at it but his advisor and PR agent raved about his popularity, crowing about how he was the next sensation since Lance the Dragon Master. Everyone was yapping about the incredibly skilled, handsome trainer, the grandson of THE Professor Oak. _He has his whole life ahead of him! He’s so handsome! He should try to conquer the other regions! He’s Kanto's gem!_ His phones were logged with missed calls and messages; his inbox overflowed with unread emails. Nude pictures of women (and some men) would pop up ever so often with captions like ‘You’ve conquered the Elite Four now come and conquer me!’ And ‘Handle my balls like you handle yours.’ Or the very simple, more frequent ‘fuck me, please.’ He would show his assistants the pictures of the men, sprawled out and erect, getting a cheap laugh from their shocked reactions. He was at the top, where every trainer aspired to be. His dream was now his daily life.

He felt nothing.

After all of that slaving, Green felt nothing.

He sucked on the bottle opening, taking breaths through his nose as the liquid burned his tongue and throat and made tears tiptoe on his lower eyelid because drunk numb was so much better than the _other_ numb, the kind of numb that induced the existential crisis he wrestled with on an almost daily basis. That hot liquid was also his savior, his salvation from his past that constantly pushed at the opening of the blasted box he’d shoved it in because Green doesn’t have any fucking problems and Green doesn’t let mushy emotions get the better of him and Green doesn’t make mistakes that he would regret because he’s competent like that. He’s **_Green_**. But sometimes his past would snake through the confines, touching and molesting his mind, whispering almost compulsive thoughts and generously providing it with unpleasant memories.

His assistants were aware of **_him_** through conversations with Professor Oak but they were wise enough to never utter **_his_** name within Green’s earshot; **_his_** name summoned an uncontrollable rage in the young champion. Riku, his personal assistant, learnt this the hard way when he’d innocently suggested he invite **_him_** to the coronation party like the nosy idiot he could be sometimes. Riku had to dodge an array of items (including a chair and a DVD player) Green launched his way. His PR agent, Seiji, had cheerfully told him about the chat he had with Professor Oak; how the old professor looked so happy reminiscing about the days when Green and **_that person_** played together. Seiji then offered to track **_him_** down, (like it was somehow his fucking duty, his calling in life to locate someone Green didn’t even _want_ to see), pulling out his cellphone to make a call to the contact that could help him with the task. Green had politely asked for the phone, and when Seiji handed it over, puzzled, Green stomped on it.

Repeatedly.

(He replaced it the very next day with the latest, very expensive model because he just _happened_ to be passing by the store and a portion of the purchase would be donated to charity).

(He told Seiji this as he’d handed it to him, avoiding his gaze as his narrow eyes bored into him, a small smile curving his lips).

(That fuckface obviously didn’t believe him).

One late evening, he'd visited his Grandfather and groaned about his growing boredom and frustration plaguing him in his new position. He’d complained how trainers these days were prone to easily give up. Green would see a trainer for a maximum of three times before he never saw them again. And those were the ones that were good enough to even _reach_ him in the first place. Green often went _weeks_ without any challengers. Weeks of him just sitting and doing either nothing or training his Pokemon, perpetuating the dilemma of him being unbeatable even further. He never thought he’d see the day when he almost cursed being so gifted. His Grandfather had chuckled, the guttural rumbles making his eyes screw shut. Green chuckled along with him in the empty lab, the golden sunset shimmering behind amethyst clouds and filtering through the circle windows, making all the glass beakers and equipment gleam and the couch on which they sat glow. He looked at his grandfather’s face, kindness and understanding creased into it, laughter in the lines flanking his mouth and jollity in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Green relaxed; he relished talking with his Grandfather about his concerns (because Green never has any problems). He felt as though the man always knew exactly what he was talking about. Professor Oak handed him a cup of tea and poured himself a serving, nodding sympathetically at his grandson’s plight. He leaned back and brought his cup to his lips.

‘M _aybe you should look for Red. He was the only one who could touch you in battles.’_

The statement had rocked his very core and before he could process it, the cup in his hand was already mid air, sailing noisily through the window, its hot contents marking the escape route. Green was on his feet, crimson-faced and blowing heavily. His Grandfather had recoiled slightly into the arm of the couch, cradling his cup of tea carefully. There was a dark spot on his pants, by his knee; some of it had spilled. He looked at Green, surprised.

Then resumed sipping the tea as though the outburst had never happened.

Green’s mouth had flopped a few times before he retreated, making a brisk exit. Oak went to the lab the next day to find Seiji supervising repairmen fixing the window.

They never spoke about it.

Green continued to shy away from any discussions of his childhood friend. As far as he was concerned, he could stay wherever the fuck he was. And his almost constant thoughts about him was because he hated the bastard so much; he often cursed himself for thinking about him at all.

Sometimes he just couldn’t help it.

 Maybe leaving **_him_** , bloodied and bruised, laying on Vermilion Port in the middle of the night had something to do with that.

(It had a lot to do with that.)

He hadn’t seen nor heard of **_him_** since. And he never spoke of **_him_** , ill or otherwise.

He didn’t even know whether he was dead or alive and despite his _VERY_ slight curiosity regarding Red’s status, he never called. He never sent any emails. He never texted.

Despite his odium, he never deleted **_his_** contact number or email address.

And so, in his inebriated state, Green rummaged through his right nightstand drawer and fished out his much neglected Fame Checker because he was just drunk and bored and had nothing better to do for the night.

He scrolled through the contacts and tapped on **_his_** face.

Accidentally.

He was bored.

He read through each comment.

Joey: _This guy’s friggin' awesome! He beat my Rattata and my Rattata is in the top percentage of Rattatas! He’s the real deal!_

Julia: _He was mean to my Clefairy!_

Calvin: _This guy’s strong! Still don’t know why he runs around in long pants, though. Shorts are so much more comfortable!_

 A familiar red headed woman’s photo popped up alongside her comment.

Misty: _Pretty decent trainer. Hot._

It was followed by hearts. Green raised an eyebrow and scrolled again. A pretty, dark haired girl gushed.

Giselle: _He’s so handsome! And he’s such gentleman!_

She’d filled almost two rows with heart eyed emojis. Alright. So Red was more of a ladies’ man than he’d let on. He was a little impressed. Only a little. He threw his head back and swallowed more rum, casting his eyes to their corners and raising his hand a little to read the device.

Green tapped on Giselle’s photo and swallowed, removing the bottle from his lips briefly to chuckle at the comment.

Misty: _Whore who likes to ride on things that aren’t hers._

Curiosity pulled his finger to Misty’s photo and he tapped it, taking another swig from his bottle.

Giselle: _Bitch who complains about a woman riding a man that **isn’t even** **hers**._

The alcohol pushed through his lips in a spray as he burst out laughing.

**********

“Sir, the shipment came in safely. We’ve already secured the buyers so the stock will be gone by this evening.” The grunt stood before the couch in the darkened room. On it, sat a silhouette, flicking a knife in his left hand, restlessly. The grunt’s fingers trembled in his white gloves; he really hoped his Admin wasn’t in a particularly foul mood. The worst part of working under him was that he didn’t really show any emotions; he never knew whether to tread lightly or at all. The only way to know if the Admin had a bad day was when he disappeared for days on end or when he stayed silent for hours at a time which was often because his Admin was never a man of many words from inception.

And during this silence he would stare at whoever happened to be nearby, through piercing brown eyes.

He always assumed that the Admin was in a bad mood and exercised extreme caution at all times.

His Admin made him and anyone who had the misfortune of working under him a nervous wreck. And while he never harmed him or the other grunts in anyway, his silence was unnerving.

He also disregarded social norms.

Team Rocket, of course, had no say about social etiquette; they broke them all the time with the robbing, stealing, mugging, Pokemon trafficking and what not. But his Admin was at a totally different level. The sense of shame most human beings possessed was clearly lacking in his being. The grunt remembered the day he was assigned to him clearly.

“Sir, my name is Kevin.” He’d said, shifting uncomfortably from his spot in front of the couch. “I’ll be working under you, henceforth.”

A disinterested “uh huh” had been his Admin’s response in the midst of his pants and the woman’s moans. He’d then proceeded to grab her hair, pulling it and making her back arch. He fondled her breasts with his other hand. She keened louder.

“Umm, uh…are there any orders you have for me, Sir…?”Kevin asked, timidly. There were rude slapping noises as he rammed his hips into her, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist; she was screaming now, a smile on her parted lips.

“What did you say?” the Admin said, breathlessly. Kevin swallowed, unable to take his eyes off the sight in front of him but wanting to look away. He straightened his back and spoke louder.

“Are there any orders…”His sentence trailed off when he saw the woman scraping the cushions with her nails, biting her bottom lip, her eyes shut tight trying her utmost not to lose too much control.  A frown was on the Admin’s reddened face; he leaned forward over her back, continuing to ram his hips into her, the added weight forcing her on forearms and elbows.

Huff, huff, huff, huff.

The ONLY reason Kevin hadn’t left yet was because walking off on a superior before he/she dismissed a grunt was considered insubordination. Punishment in Team Rocket was NOT nice.

“Repeat…that?” The admin grabbed a fistful of her hair and jammed his elbow into the center of her back, his other arm supporting his weight pressed into the cushions of the poor couch, his forearm beside hers, increasing the speed of his pelvic pounding. By now she’d been pressed into the cushion, her head kept upright by the Admin’s grip on her hair. It looked painful.

She didn’t seem to mind.

Slap, slap, slap, slap.

Kevin cleared his throat. “I asked if-”

“AHHHHHHHHH!!!” His eyes widened at the woman, gasping heavily under the admin, her eyes squinted shut from her release. The Admin turned those gaping brown holes at him, the ones that looked like they knew all the secrets he kept bottled up. They blinked.

“Oh. Right. Orders.” He moved from his position behind the woman and stood, slipping off the soppy condom that hugged his now limp member. Kevin hastily looked away. There was movement and he looked ahead, past the Admin. The woman was now sitting upright on the couch, her eyes mischievous and laughing at him.

He didn’t know who was worse.

“Go into my room and bring a towel and more condoms, please.” He had the audacity to use the word “please”.

“Y-yes, sir.” Kevin stammered and made a quick exit. He almost careened into another woman in the hallway out of the room. She placed a hand gently on his bicep.

“Excuse me, is he finished? I need to get home before my husband comes back.” Kevin stared at her, dumbfounded.

He didn’t know what to think.

**********

For the second month in a row Green had no challengers. For the second month Green in a row sat down behind his desk, alone in his office. For the second month in a row, he was subjected to tedium.

He wanted to pull his hair out.

If he’d known that he’d be doing nothing almost 24/7, he’d never become champion. No, that was a lie. But he would have relinquished his title to someone else.

It was way too late to do that now.

He sighed, pressing his palms against his face. He yanked open the drawer by his shin, pulling out a bottle of amber liquid, then reached further into it, grabbing a glass. He contemplated for a moment before returning the glass to the drawer, opting to press the glass opening to his lips instead. He took gulp after gulp, his body and senses deadening with each swallow.

He felt dead.

Barely coherent, he propped his feet on the desk, ankles crossed and slouched into his office chair, relaxing as the familiar warm, heaviness took over his body. Gravity tugged at his eyelids and he felt the bottle slipping from his fingers. The phone rang, and he jumped up, spilling some of the alcohol on his shirt. Cursing, he set the bottle on the table, and fumbled with the phone before finally putting it to his ear.

“Helluuh?” He slurred, blinking and wiping drool from his mouth

“Green!” A frantic voice on the other end wriggled into his eardrum.

“Whaa?” Green drawled. He really wasn’t interested in what the person had to say. It was already too hard to concentrate.

“There was an accident at the lab! You have to-“

“Which lab?” Green interjected, burping.

“Your Grandfather’s lab!” Green straightened his back, alarmed.

“How did you know my grandfather has a lab?” There was a pause.

“…Green, are you drunk?” The voice asked cautiously, almost exasperated.

“That’s none of you damn business!” Green coughed. “Whatever queries you have, please check my assistant, Riku.”

“This _is_ Riku, Green!” Riku almost shouted. Green blinked.

“How…How did you get my number?” There was an angry sigh and a loud click; the dial tone chortled in his ear. Green was unfazed.

“…Hello?”

**********

Half an hour later, Riku was pulling and pushing Green’s body to the car out front. Lance looked at them shaking his head; Bruno had already turned his in disgust. They’d just been talking about him. Agatha, on the other hand, had smugness all over her face, embedded in its wrinkles, snickering as Green stumbled over himself. She cackled when Riku had to hoist a semi-insentient Green onto his back, almost toppling over with the dead weight. Green slid off, unconscious on the ground, snoring. Riku cursed, standing and tapping on his phone furiously, pressing the device to his heated face. The Ice Queen observed quietly, sympathy etched onto her features.

_I fucking miss him!_

She remembered that night when the usually imperturbable, upstanding Green was crying, wailing in his office, curled into a snot covered, tear stained bundle on the floor. His office had been trashed; books and documents were strewn all over, the desk was overturned and the bookshelf had toppled over. When she’d asked who “him” was, he’d cried even harder. She never found out who this person was, this person who Green was torn over, broken up over. She pulled him to a sitting position. Green drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, pushing his forehead against his knees and sobbing.

Loudly.

Lorelei had gotten up and closed the door, locking it. Bruno saw Green as unfit to be champion; his skills were noteworthy, he’d acknowledged but despite his collected demeanor, he was impatient and could be rather hotheaded. Traits inacceptable for a Leader. Lance had been dethroned after holding the title for so long; the envy soaked animosity he held towards Green was understandable. Green being younger than him didn’t help matters. Lance vilified and ignored him at every possible turn. Agatha showed ambivalence towards the Champion except when he made errors or bad judgements; it didn’t happen often but when it did, she'd magnify them, seemingly taking pleasure from witnessing Green’s perfect image crack. Lorelei suspected that this had more to do with her bitterness towards Green’s grandfather rather than towards Green himself.

_If any of them come in here, they would never live it down._

She started to gather up the scattered papers, walking around the now upside down table, when she noticed paper towels in front of it, fallen from the open third drawer. She trotted to him, paper towels in hand, kneeling next to him and tapping his shoulder. He looked up at her slowly through bloodshot, puffy eyes, his upper lip and Cupid’s bow glossy with snot and tears. He’d quieted down somewhat. He took the paper towels from her cautiously. Her hand rubbed his back soothingly as she assured him that everything would be fine and he would feel better once he sobered up. Green looked so small and fragile at that moment; this strong-willed man who despite all Bruno’s, Lance’s and sometimes Agatha’s taunting never got his feathers ruffled. _He’s just a child_.  She felt maternal instinct stirring in her bosom and combed her fingers through his hair, shushing him softly.

She froze when she felt a warm hand slither up her skirt.

Her fist greeted his nose and she watched him recoil, grabbing it and whimpering. His sobbing resumed. She’d walked out the office in a huff but she wasn’t angry. She pitied him. She never brought up the incident with him; he didn’t even seem to remember the night. She kept Green's secret turmoil to herself and understanding washed over her whenever he got drunk or spaced out or was absent from meetings and/or the office for days on end.

Seiji arrived on the scene and was engaged in the hauling of Green, lifting him by his ankles while Riku hoisted his body by his armpits. They hobbled out the entrance, the gym door being held open by Agatha’s cane, her other hand muffling her giggles. The driver of the car waiting outside hurriedly opened the backdoor for them, hitting Green in the head with it. He groaned. By now, Agatha had been reduced to tears, not even bothering to hide her mirth at the situation. Lorelei cleared her throat, and adjusted her glasses.

“Agatha, please.” She admonished gently. “Show some respect.” The old woman quieted down and looked at her for a few seconds.

Her head snapped back and she guffawed even harder.

**********

“I’m so tired of this shit! This is the fourth time this week!” Riku slapped Green a few times, frustration evidenced in the increasing force of each strike. “GREEN!” He hollered. The young man opened his eyes slowly, looking at him in confusion before some slurred nonsense tumbled out his mouth.

“ARGH!” Riku yelled, grabbing Green by the lapels of his shirt and shaking him mercilessly. He felt like he wanted to cry. He’d noticed Green was sucking on bottles more often these days. He made out with them even more during the month of March. Come to think of it, in the five years he’d been working for Green, he was always his drunkest around March. Sure he’d picked up moderate drinking in the first year of Riku working for him. But the amount steadily increased over the years.

And he was **_ALWAYS_** completely **_WASTED_** around March.

Riku _hated_ it. He loathed when Green’s words slurred and he didn’t make any sense. He was hard to deal with, often belligerent. Rarer and far more disturbing, a wailing mess. He hated when he reeked; the stench of twelve hospital wards clung to his clothes and his breath was probably where the Methylated Spirits was manufactured. Buckets and buckets of vomit had been emptied on countless surfaces over the years and Riku was the one who had to clean it up because he was his personal assistant but, fuck, this wasn’t what he was being paid for. He was sure of it. Anytime Green came within two feet of alcohol, Riku would get nervous. He would get _agitated_. One thing he was grateful for was Green’s drinking episodes never happened in the presence of others. It was always in the privacy of his bedroom, or at the office way after hours. After the infamous Tongue Wiggle of March, 200X, Riku had had enough. He confided in Seiji and to his great annoyance, Seiji’d already known, that bastard, and being the more solution-oriented of the two, had taken precautions. He’d look through Green’s drawer at work and at home, searching for any extra alcohol he may have been hiding (his favourite hiding place seemed to be under his bed). Of course he’d deny seeing any of the drinks anytime Green asked him about it. Green got smart and started locking his drawers, bedroom and office when he wasn’t present. When Seiji discovered this, he’d just contacted Professor Oak and told him of the situation. The old man provided spare keys to the bedroom and with Lorelei’s help, Seiji was able to copy Green’s office keys. But even those measures failed when the cursed month of March rolled around. Green never confronted his assistants or even his Grandfather about his missing stashes. Instead, his assistants assumed, he took to buying and consuming the alcohol on the same day.

In one sitting. That had to be it.

Seiji sighed; his head hurt from trying to keep Green in line and Riku’s enraged yelling. He intervened when Riku resumed abusing Green’s face.

“Calm down, Riku.” Seiji sighed again, grabbing Riku’s wrist. Green groaned and blinked.

“Well, he has to wake up! We’re on our way to Professor Oak’s!” Riku clutched Green’s lapels again, shaking the lifeless champion. Seiji released his grip.

“I know but you’re giving him bruises.” Seiji directed his attention to Green’s cheek and sure enough, it was swollen and turning an ugly shade of black and blue. “How will you explain this to his Grandfather?” Riku paused, considering the question. He then shrugged.

“Tell him he fell. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth. I mean, look at his state.” Riku gestured to him, frustrated.

“I-” Seiji’s retort was cut short by when Green groaned loudly, sitting up.

“Oh, you’re awake. Finally! Hitting the bottle again, I see.” Riku rolled his eyes. Green rubbed his face, wincing.

“Hmm.” Green acknowledged, squinting. He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask.

“Fuck no!” Riku almost screamed the invective, snatching the flask away from his grip. “Not again, Green. NOT. AGAIN.” Green looked at Riku, blinking through bleary eyes, confused. Then angry.

“Riku, give me the flask,” Green said sternly, sticking out an open palm to him. Seiji shifted uncomfortably at his side.

“No. I refuse to go through this again! I’ve had enough of this!”

“Riku.” Green warned, turning his whole body to face him. Behind Riku’s back cars whizzed by.

“NO!”

“You’re fired.” Green said firmly. “If you’ve had enough, you’re fired. Give me the fucking flask.” Riku sneered.

“You can’t fire someone you didn’t even employ, Green.” Seiji cleared his throat.

“Riku.” He said gently. He understood Riku’s feeling and resonated with them but Riku could be just as hotheaded as Green. Two of them in a standoff in the enclosed space of the backseat of a car was a recipe for disaster. He didn’t want things to escalate any further.

“Give. Me. The. Flask.” Anger spurted from every punctuated word he forced through clenched teeth. Riku shook his head slowly, looking at him dead in the eye. An enraged Green took courage to stand up to and Seiji quietly admired the size of Riku’s balls.

“RIKU!” Green shouted, lunging for the flask. There was struggling and the sound of elbows hitting the window. One of Green’s feet stomped on Seiji’s chest and he squeezed himself against the door at his back to try to avoid further attacks. Green yanked Riku by the collar, pulling him across his lap and wedging him between the driver seat and front seat. By now the driver was cursing. Riku grunted, keeping his arms above him with the flask clasped in them, out of Green’s reach. Green stretched over him, trying to seize the precious bottle from his grip. With a yell, Riku flailed his arms and squirmed, managing to push Green off of him. Reaching over the front seat side, he grabbed at the door, pressing the button on its handle. The window scrolled down leisurely and the flask was out of the car before the glass descended quarter way, ridding the car (and Green) of the devil’s elixir. Green looked at the window open mouthed for a few seconds, his hold on Riku’s collar loosening. Riku watched Green, eyeing him for any movements, wide-eyed as the realization of what he’d just done sinking in slowly. Seiji shifted, turning his body to fully face the pair and propping his elbow on the backrest of his seat, getting ready to take action.

“ASSHOLE!” Green roared, his hands gripping Riku’s collar with renewed vigor, leaning over him and shaking him like there was no tomorrow. The back of Riku’s head bumped against the radio, changing the station with every strike. The driver shouted and cursed even louder. Between the switching of stations, something caught in Seiji’s ear. He planted a hand on Green’s shoulder and shook, causing the furious drunk to cease his battering of Riku and turn to face him. Riku sat up a little, placing his hand behind his head gingerly and growling. Seiji motioned to the radio and Green sat back a little, allowing him to extend over Riku and adjust the station, the static clearing and the broadcaster’s voice filling the car.

“…criminal activities seem to be on the rise, the police is urging the public to exercise caution when out at night…”

“Oh. Ok.” Seiji nodded, retaking his seat. Riku’s eyes widened when Green resumed flicking through the stations with his head.

“What the fuck, Seiji?!” Riku screamed. Seiji ignored him, pulling out his phone and dialing a number furiously. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Sir, I heard the broadcast. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. The lab is not.” The old professor sounded almost panicked. He paused.

“Did you get Green?”

“Yes.”

“…How is he?” Seiji’s eyes flickered to the commotion in front of him. Riku had managed to sit up, his lower back almost pressing against the gear shift. His shoulder blades were jammed against the dashboard; one of his hands was pressed firmly against Green’s shoulder, the other gripped his brown locks, tugging. Green was beet read, the fusion of rage and alcohol bubbling under his skin as he grabbed Riku’s hair and pushed his head back, the other hand gripping the man’s collar. Riku thrashed his arms again, trying to free himself and in the process hit the driver’s forearm causing him to swerve to the left. The force caused the back of Seiji’s head to bump painfully on the window behind him. The driver righted the car quickly, a jumbled amalgamation of curses and apologies flying out of his mouth above screeching tires and blaring horns. He merged into the left lane to pull over. Seiji sat up and straightened his shirt.

“He’s fine.”

**********

Seiji hopped out of the car before it came to a complete halt in front of Professor Oak’s lab. He walked briskly the old man who was standing outside, rubbing his forehead and speaking to some officers. Professor Oak pointed to the broken glass window on the right side of the building. The officers hurried inside.

“Professor Oak.” Seiji greeted, trotting towards him. The professor turned to him, brightening a little.

“Seiji.” Professor Oak nodded politely. “ I hope I didn’t interrupt you from anything important.” Seiji shook his head.

“Not at all, Sir.” There was some shuffling and they turned their attention to the noise. Riku staggered out of the car, trying desperately to fix his disheveled appearance. Green stumbled out the front seat, just as untidy as his assistant. They made their way towards them, Riku walking ahead of Green. Green straightened his clothes and hair as he made his way to his Grandfather, doing his best to look presentable. Professor Oak frowned at him, sadness and pity in his eyes. Green grunted a greeting and headed inside the lab, the scent of alcohol cloaking him and the left side of his face purple and red with bruises. Professor placed his confused gaze on his assistants.

“What…happened to his face?” He asked, cautiously.

“He fell.” Seiji and Riku answered in unison, without missing a beat. Professor Oak nodded slowly, still bewildered.

“Alright.” He straightened. “There was a break in. The security guard was killed.” Riku paled.

“Do you have any suspects? Maybe someone who has a personal grudge?”

“Not that I know of.” Seiji noticed how the Professor’s gaze faltered a little as he said this. “That’s not the only thing. Some of my pokemon are missing.” Seiji’s eyes widened.

“Then…?”

“Yes. All three starter pokemon are gone.” There was movement in his periphery. He looked past Oak. There was a body back on top of a stretcher being taken out the lab. One of the wheels of the stretcher caught on a rock on the pathway of the lab, causing it to jolt. The cadaver’s hand slipped out of its confines, hanging limply at the side of the stretcher, blood trickling down its forearm and staining the earth below it. There was gagging to his left and Seiji barely had time to remove his feet from the stream of vomit spewing out of Riku’s bent form. His shoes still got splashed. Professor Oak looked at Riku sympathetically. Green emerged from the lab with an officer, rubbing his eyes and came to a halt at his Grandfather’s side. Riku stood up straight, his retching ceased. Green caught his gaze and they glared at each other. The officer addressed Professor Oak.

“Sir, we found this on the table where the pokeballs are usually held.” A piece of paper was handed to him and Professor Oak unfolded it. A threat printed in bold capital letters was spread across it:

**IT’S TOO LATE FOR THAT NOW, OAK.**

Seiji noticed how his employer’s hand trembled as he handed the note back to the officer.

“Sir, are you aware of any person who may have a personal grudge or may want to harm you in any way? 

Seiji noticed how Professor Oak’s gaze shifted.

“Not that I know of, no.” He answered. The officer nodded.

“Alright then. Probably some typical robbers. We’ll continue the investigations and keep you informed as much as possible.”

“Thank you, Officer.” Professor Oak said absentmindedly. Green startled everyone out of the quiet mood when he yawned loudly.

“What do you want to do now, Gramps?” He asked. He seemed more alert now.

“I’ll just head home.” Oak said softly. He sighed. “Today’s been a really long day.” Green nodded.  “I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Alright, then.” They embraced.  When releasing his grandson, his cheek brushed against his, causing Green to yelp and press a hand to the side of his face.

“Ow! What the hell happened to the side of my face?!” He hissed, touching at the affected area, carefully.

“You fell.” Professor Oak, Riku and Seiji deadpanned.

**********

Today had been exhausting. Green washed his hair in the shower, grimacing when his hand passed over his abused left cheek. The events of the day rolled over in his mind, the fight in the car, the flask flying through the window and the uncharacteristically silent Riku submitting his reports on his completed duties and leaving for the day.

 _Something_ bounced around in his ribcage. It nagged and prodded and poked at him.

Green turned off the shower and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and rubbing another in his hair. He plopped down on his bed and reached under it, pulling out a bottle.

Because Green doesn’t have any problems, he just drinks because he can.

Because Green has amazing self-control; he can stop anytime he wants to.

Because Green isn’t addicted or anything, it’s just a harmless, messy pastime.

He could stop anytime he wanted to.

There was a knock and Green gave permission without a second thought. Riku came through the door.

“Green, I almost forgot to tell you…” His sentence trailed into silence as his eyes landed on the bottle sitting next to his lap. There was a flash of anger in his eyes. Then disappointment. He turned away.

“Well, you look sorta busy so I guess I’ll tell you tomorrow. It wasn’t important.” He left before Green could utter a word. That _something_ returned to beat around in Green’s chest.

_So this is what guilt feels like._

His phone rang. His Grandfather was on the line, as promised.

“Goodnight Green. How…how are you feeling?” Professor Oak hesitated with the question.

“I should be asking you that, Gramps.” Green chuckled. There was a forced, short laugh on the other end. Then muteness. Green waited, listening to his relative’s steady breathing on the line. His grandfather pausing in speech usually meant bad news was coming in his next breath. There was a sigh.

“Green, I went back to the lab after you and your assistants left.” Professor Oak took a deep breath. “I found a hat.” Green frowned. He was about to question why he was so riled up over a hat when it clicked.

“Gramps…”

“A baseball cap.”

There was another bout of silence.

“Green…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Green bit his lip. He was shaking. From fear or anger, he didn’t know.

“I know this is hard but…”

“Gramps, I have to go.” Green said suddenly.

“Green…”

He hung up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *You'll find out about the infamous Tongue Wiggle of March 200x soon. I wonder if Green drinks Jack Daniel's? Who knows.
> 
> * My character Seiji is named after Shishikura Seiji from Boku no Hero Academia. The other character Riku is named that because I just like the name :)


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